


Children of the Wheel

by rusty_armour



Category: Robin of Sherwood
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Angst, Gen, Humor, Romance, Swordplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-21
Updated: 2010-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-07 11:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 69,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rusty_armour/pseuds/rusty_armour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Robin causes Rhiannon's Wheel to turn, he is thrust into another time where Guy of Huntingdon exists instead of Guy of Gisburne...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Children of the Wheel

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this novella between 1992 and 1994. It was originally intended for "The Turn of the Wheel" zine, which posed the question: "What would have happened if Edmond of Gisburne had died in the Crusades?" I didn't get this story published, but it was posted online in 1998 when it received some quick revision. Now, approximately twelve years later, it has been revised again and is hopefully in much better shape than before.
> 
> This story is set immediately after "The Time of the Wolf" and refers to incidents from both this story and previous episodes, such as "Robin Hood and the Sorcerer" and "The Enchantment". Some lines were lifted directly from "The Time of the Wolf". I claim no ownership of these lines and give full credit to Richard Carpenter and the RoS production team.
> 
> © 1994
> 
>  
> 
> The fantastic cover art for this story was created by raven714. You can find more of her beautiful RoS artwork and fanvids [here](http://raven714.livejournal.com).

 

** Chapter One **

  
"As Constable to the King, it is my duty to decide both of your fates and to pronounce whatever sentence I see fit," said William Brewer to the two lords that sat side by side below him. Brewer himself was stretched out comfortably in the High Sheriff's chair, his heels lying slack on the table. He glared down at the two men as contemptuously as a god might gaze upon two fleas.

This was a trial to determine which lord had been responsible for the loss of the grain shipment collected from various villages of the shire. This grain was to have been added to the supplies sent to Newark, where King John was gathering an army to march against Llewellyn. Because both the High Sheriff, Robert de Rainault, and his steward, Sir Guy of Gisburne, had failed to safeguard this shipment, the charges levied against them were all the more serious...and deadly.

They quickly dismissed their plan to seek a pardon from King John when they both realized what truly lay at the bottom of their newly acquired cart, that it wasn't the body of Robin Hood but some kind of clay being instead. And, so, with this in mind, and too close to Nottingham to turn back, they had returned to the castle to await whatever fate had left in store for them. Now, a week later, they were facing a man who was about to determine not only their crimes but their very lives as well.

They both knew which man was guilty. Perhaps William Brewer knew as well, but in a court run by King John's Constable justice didn't matter. Power was the game here. The Sheriff had claimed that he would clear both their names, but every word that he and his brother had spoken that day had been against his steward. Gisburne soon discovered that this was another promise the Sheriff didn't intend to keep. The Sheriff was only interested in saving his own neck, not risking it to save somebody else's. Unfortunately for Gisburne, the extent Robert de Rainault had gone to save himself had not made the knight look good at all.

"From what I have heard so far," said Brewer, "you, Guy of Gisburne, have much to answer for. Both the Sheriff and his brother, Lord Abbot Hugo de Rainault, have given various testimonies against you. I have listened to the accounts of both these men carefully and I don't like what I've heard. Your incompetence has been...utterly astounding! It has cost soldiers' lives rather than those of any of the outlaws, which was supposed to be your responsibility in the first place! In fact, you have made barely any progress whatsoever in capturing this rogue, Robin Hood.

"Your ineptitude has been a shame for us all to bear. You have no right to any position within the law, or, for that matter, any position at all! I find it incredible that you have managed to live this long without surrendering your head to an executioner's block and astonishing that you have not been tried before this!" William Brewer paused, taking a long sip from his wine cup before continuing. "I'm surprised, de Rainault, that you have put up with him all these years. Why did you allow him to continue working in your service for so long when you knew the truth about his vices?"

"My lord," answered the Sheriff, in his best speaking voice, "it shames me to think that I could have been so mistaken about the true nature of my steward and so blind to his...his wickedness and apparent abuse of power. Yes, I was blinded. Blinded by the loyalty I felt I owed a man who had once served my good brother. Blinded by the belief that if I provided...Guy with the proper training and knowledge, he would eventually learn to be a competent steward and deputy. I always thought of him as my...protégé, hoping that one day he might take over the position of High Sheriff after my own untimely passing."

Gisburne stared at the Sheriff in amazement, unable to believe the complete fabrications that had just tumbled out of his mouth. "That's a lie," he stated at last, finding his voice.

"What did you say?" inquired Brewer, squinting haughtily down his nose at Gisburne. "Is there something you wish to add?"

"Yes, my lord," said the knight. The scribe stopped his frantic writing for a moment as Gisburne rose slowly from his seat and placed both hands flat upon the table in front of him. "They're lies! They're all lies!"

"All of them?"

"Well, yes. Most of them, anyway."

"So you admit that some of the Sheriff's accounts are true. This is not good, Gisburne."

"My lord, I am innocent," said Gisburne, with steady deliberation and something close to weariness in his voice. He had spoken those same words some seven or eight times throughout the trial already. It had gotten to the point where even he had some trouble believing it.

"Gisburne, I wish to hear nothing further from you. Sit down. My lords, I have reached a decision. I find Guy of Gisburne guilty of mismanaging the supervision of the grain shipment from the villages of this shire, as well as plotting possible treason against King John."

"That's not true!" exclaimed Gisburne, his blue eyes blazing as he jumped up again.

"Really, Gisburne, you should have more respect!" said the Sheriff.

The fire behind the knight's eyes suddenly died and they became cold and barren. Then Gisburne launched himself on the Sheriff, both hands circling de Rainault's neck. In the end, it took three guards to pull Gisburne away.

"This has gone too far, Gisburne!" hissed Brewer, who loathed such scenes of violence. "I have had enough of you! Tomorrow morning you will be sent to the castle courtyard where I shall personally supervise your execution. Guards, take this thing to the dungeon!"

Brewer's gavel crashed down on the table, its loud echo ringing in the powerless knight's ears as he was hauled away.

  


* * * * 

  
"Have you heard the news?" asked John, entering the outlaws' camp. "The King's heading for Nottingham. He should be here by tomorrow."

"But I thought he was in Newark gathering an army to march against the Welsh," said Tuck, offering his friend a swig of ale, a gift from the rich and colourful merchant they had met that morning.

"I wouldn't have thought that anything would drag him back to Nottingham now."

"I reckon something bad has happened."

"Or something important enough to draw him away from Newark," said Tuck.

John grinned. "Oh, oh. The Sheriff and Gisburne must really be in trouble this time."

"Don't be daft," said Will, deciding to join in the conversation. "Those two are always getting into trouble and the King doesn't come running."

"Aye, well, maybe you're right, Will, but why did Gisburne run off to join Gulnar and Fenris then?" argued John. "Either the Sheriff got rid of him, or he was in trouble, right?"

Will rolled his eyes. "He went back to the Sheriff, though, didn't he?"

"Maybe the Sheriff wants to get rid of him again," suggested Much.

"He doesn't need the King to do that!" said Tuck. "The Sheriff could easily boot him out any time he wants to."

"Or Gisburne could get himself booted out without anyone's help," muttered Will, causing his friends to laugh.

Tuck wasn't willing to let the subject rest just yet. "Look, we still haven't figured out why King John's coming to Nottingham."

"And what road he'll be taking," added Nasir.

"But I want to know why he's planning to come to Nottingham in the first place!" said Tuck.

"To leave all his fancy jewels with the Sheriff so we can take them from him," answered Will with a leer.

Tuck sighed and looked at Robin. "Why do you think King John's coming to Nottingham, Robin?"

The outlaws turned to their leader as one. Up until that moment, Robin had been trapped in a daze. He sensed that his men were staring at him and found that he had to release the one part of Marion he had left: his memories of her. "I'm sorry, Tuck. What did you say?"

Tuck rose and laid a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Why don't you go and talk to her?"

"What do you mean?" asked Robin, although he knew perfectly well.

"Marion. Why don't you go and talk to her?"

"No. There's nothing left to say. She's made her decision. Nothing I can say will change her mind."

Will threw a twig into the fire. "Well, you can try, can't you? Maybe she has changed her mind."

"It's been a week, Will, and I haven't seen any sign of it."

"Maybe she's afraid," said Much, trying to make a contribution.

Will snorted. "Don't be daft. They love each other."

"Yeah, but if she loves him, then why didn't she stay with us?" asked Much.

The outlaws groaned silently to themselves and Robin put his head in his hands.

"Much, go on watch," said Will.

"Why? What did I do?"

"Just go!"

Much stood up, resigning himself to the task. "Why is it always me who has to do it?" he grumbled, stomping away.

"You know, Much is right," said Robin, once Much had left. "She is afraid. She's afraid that if she loves me, she'll lose me as well. Perhaps she was just trying to be kind. Perhaps she never loved me at all."

"Now hold on!" cried Tuck. "That isn't true! Listen, Robin, I've known Marion for some time. I've known her as a girl and as the woman she has become. She loves you. If you love her, you'll fight for that love. It's not too late. You can still go to her and--"

"No!" said Robin. "She's made her decision and I've accepted it."

John shook his head. "No, lad, you haven't. You've been moping around this camp all week saying nought to any of us. If you really love her, go and tell her! You can't go on like this, Robin. You've got to do something."

Robin seemed rather startled by this outburst: almost as startled as John himself. Robin opened his mouth to speak. Then he cast his eyes away and quickly left the camp. John rose to stop him, but knew it was too late.

Will glared at his confused companion. "Now why'd you do that for?"

"I didn't know he'd do that!"

"Yeah, well, maybe you should have. I should have sent you away instead of Much, that's what I should have done!"

"Ah...shut up, Scarlet!"

"Me? You're the one who--"

"That's enough," said Tuck, putting an end to their squabble. "This isn't going to help him and you know it. Isn't that right, Nasir?"

The Saracen nodded. "It is right."

"Robin needs time to heal his broken heart," said Tuck.

"Time heals all wounds," stated Nasir.

"If he's left alone, he can seek solace within himself and find comfort."

"There cannot be a new day without the sun..."

"As David said to Solomon--"

"Hold on, this is all hogwash, that's what it is!" exclaimed Will. "And since when have you had so much to say?" he asked Nasir. The Saracen smiled and shrugged. "He's made us all mad, that's what he's done. I love Marion as much as you lot. Maybe even more. But it's her fault, ain't it? He's lost his senses completely because of her. He's no good to anyone...He's absolutely useless!"

John sighed. "Will's right. He can't even think straight anymore."

"I'd best have a talk with him, then," said Tuck.

"You had better," agreed Will. "Just keep David, Solomon, Moses, or any of that other lot, out of it."

  


* * * * 

  
Robin ran through Sherwood, swerving around trees, leaping over fallen logs and branches, heading deep into the forest. His heart pounded within him, his lungs threatening to burst. But he kept on running, heedless of it all.

There was a hollowness inside of him. An invisible claw had tightened around his throat. Thinking of her made every breath he had to take more painful. He stopped and slid to the ground, exhausted more by his emotions than any physical strain. Sweat beaded his brow and his hair clung damply to his face. He closed his eyes for a few moments, opening them to find mist creeping slowly around him. For one moment, the glade was empty. Then, in a flash of brilliant light, Herne, forest god of Sherwood, had appeared. Robin went on one knee and Herne gently laid a hand on his shoulder.

"The Time of the Wolf has ended, but a new time could come to take its place."

"A new time?"

"A time where you control both beginning and end, a time that might have been but wasn't. The people cry out and are lost in pain and despair. Death afflicts them. You cannot hear them. You do not understand until it is too late and the Wheel turns again. Remember that you control your own destiny. The greatest battle will be with yourself, but by believing in what is right you shall succeed. Make of it what you will, Robin i' the Hood."

Herne lifted his hand from his son's shoulder and was gone. Robin watched the mist disappear with him and rose wearily to his feet. What did it all mean? What was he supposed to do? It was another one of Herne's riddles. There had been no visions or dreams to guide him, no path that he could follow. Robin gave a quiet murmur of anger. He may have been chosen by Herne to be his son and do his bidding, but it didn't mean that, today, he had to like it.

  


* * * * 

  
That night, under a starless black sky, a small group of savage men, both dishonoured and possessed, entered the village of Wickham. Their weapons were daggers, staffs, torches, and a burning desire for revenge. They were the wolves that had been separated from their pack. They were lost and left with nothing.

They knew only one craft: killing. Murder would satisfy their gnawing and relentless hunger for blood. They hungered for the blood of innocents: man, woman or child. It didn't matter in the least to them.

The people of Wickham slept, ignorant of the evil that had begun to menace their village. Some dreamed and some had nightmares. Others tossed and turned, like Edward, who had the fate of his village to fret over.

The past couple of weeks had been hard for all of them. They had suffered much in the fight against Gulnar and Fenris. Some of them had died in this struggle, leaving women without husbands and children without fathers. They had lost their precious grain. They might have starved when winter came if Robin Hood and the other outlaws hadn't helped them. The villagers and outlaws had fought bravely against Gulnar and Fenris. They had certainly earned the grain they had taken from the dead monks of Grimstone.

There was peace in the village now as people tried to continue with their lives. They were safe at present, for a little while at least. But Edward couldn't help feeling tense and frightened about something. At the back of his mind an unrelenting fear nagged at him, but it was one he didn't understand. Surely the dangers they had faced were over. Still, there was that fear in his mind and a terror he felt about something...About what?

A torch was struck against one of the straw roofs and orange flames began to greedily engulf a hut. Then there were screams and weapons clashed. More torches found their way to the village homes. Men and women began to fall, crushed and battered to the ground. Blood spilled as the horror and chaos grew. People who tried to escape from the savages did...at the cost of their own lives.

Both girls and boys were beaten and small children wept for their mothers and fathers. A hundred voices seemed to cry out against this injustice, but no one heard them. Soon Wickham, like Loxley, was destroyed.

  


* * * * 

  
"Robin Hood!" called a frantic voice. "Robin Hood! Robin Hood, where are you?"

Little John, with quarter-staff in hand, appeared on the well-worn road that led through Sherwood. He met up with a wide-eyed peasant that he had seen enough in Elsdon to know by name.  
"Stephen, what are you doing here?" asked John in astonishment.

"Little John, I've just been to Wickham to see Edward and, and..." The man shut his eyes and shuddered.

"What is it, lad?" demanded John, suddenly feeling his blood run cold. "What's happened?"

"I think you had better come...As soon as you can..."

John grabbed the villager's arm and they quickly headed for the camp. In a matter of minutes, the outlaws were rushing to Wickham. Then they were staring at the village in horror.

There was nothing left standing. Huts were just dead black ashes with wisps of smoke rising from the ground. Livestock had been stolen or killed during the onslaught. The villagers of Wickham lay silent and still.

The outlaws broke out of their stunned trances. They bolted across Wickham to search for anyone who might have survived. Then Robin saw Edward, his wife and son huddled together in a pile. Robin shook as he slowly knelt on the grass beside them and took Edward's cold hand in his.

Anger, pain and anguish welled up inside of him like fire. His mind reeled desperately with a whole array of confused and bewildered thoughts.

_Why didn't I see this? Why didn't you tell me, Herne? Why couldn't I understand? I could have stopped this if I had known...If only I had known! They were innocent. They did nothing to deserve this. I've fought all this time to save them from poverty and injustice and now they're dead. They're all dead! All dead because I wasn't here to save them. You chose your son wrongly, Herne. I wish you had never laid eyes upon me at all! I wish I had never become your son. _

Robin bent his head and closed his eyes, feeling the scalding tears burn in them. He concentrated fiercely and his mind locked with Herne's.

_Herne, Lord of the Trees, I call upon you!_

There was a flash of lightening and the forest god was before him.

  


* * * * 

  
Guy of Gisburne was led into the courtyard, his hands tied behind his back. He had given up his struggle. He chose instead to meet death as honourably as he could, as a knight and a soldier. He felt many eager eyes upon him, but he didn't flinch as he was made to kneel in front of the block. He didn't look up at the large dark executioner, with axe wielded in hand. He let himself be blindfolded and rested his head on the hard stone. He gave no speech and said no words. He didn't even make an attempt to pray. His mind was focused on the man who had brought him here and was about to witness his death.

_I'm free of you at last, Sheriff_, thought Guy bitterly. _I'm free. If only I had had more power, Sheriff. I could have beaten you, then. You, and your position, and money, and men. Oh, but I'll get you, Sheriff...Even if I have to wait until you're in hell to do it. _

Gisburne's thoughts ended there, as William Brewer finished pronouncing his sentence of death. There was a terrible silence. Guy almost felt his heart stop. Then the axe flew down and the Wheel turned...

  


* * * * 

  
Robin's head brushed against the pillow. He managed to open his eyes despite the pain that throbbed in his head. He wasn't in Wickham anymore. He wasn't even in Sherwood. He was in a castle, judging by the fine chamber and bed he lay in. Then he realized that it was Huntingdon, the very castle he had been born in.

Robin scanned the room and recognized it as his own. There was a man seated in the corner of his chamber. His head rested in his hands, and fair hair touched his fingers. He lifted his head and Robin stared at him in amazement.

"Gisburne?" Robin croaked, trying to find his voice.

The man turned his head and was out of the chair in an instant. "By Heaven, Robert, I thought you were dead!" he exclaimed, pulling his chair up beside the bed.

Robin couldn't believe it. Gisburne was actually concerned about him. And he had called him "Robert". He never called him "Robert". What was happening here? Was this a dream?

"I should never have left you alone with that horse, Robert, but I thought you could handle him. I didn't know he would buck."

"What happened...Guy?" asked Robin, deciding to use the knight's Christian name since Gisburne had already used his twice.

Gisburne didn't seem to notice. "You were thrown off your horse during the hunt."

"The hunt? What hunt?"

"Don't you remember? Are you all right? I can fetch the physician." Gisburne began to rise.

"No, stay...I'm fine," replied Robin, wishing that he really was.

Gisburne leaned forward. He reached his hand out towards Robin, who flinched and tried to sit up.

"What's the matter with you?" asked Gisburne. "I was only going to feel your head for a fever. You act as if I'm going to hurt you, as if you don't trust me."

Robin was about to say just that, but held his tongue instead. He was better to keep silent until he knew how he had arrived at Huntingdon and why Gisburne's attitude had suddenly changed so dramatically.

"I should never have allowed you to go on that hunt," continued Gisburne, as he actually began to reprimand himself. "Father's going to be very angry when he returns and finds you like this."

"What did you say?" cried Robin.

Guy gave a start. "I said Father's going to be very angry when he returns. He'll want to flog me for this."

"Father?" exclaimed Robin again. Did Gisburne know that they were half-brothers, then?

"Look, are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes...yes, I'm fine."

Gisburne leaned back in his chair and studied Robin, shaking his head. Then the door burst open and a young woman came into the room. She sighed almost thankfully when she saw that Robin was awake and sat down on the edge of his bed.

"Thank God you're all right, Robert," she said quietly, squeezing his hand. "I've brought you some broth to eat. You'll need something to get your strength back." She smiled serenely, and her pale anxious eyes seemed to clear a little as he took the broth from her. She was small and thin. Her hair was pulled back a little too severely in a braid along her back, but she had simple beauty and there was kindness in her manner. She gave Guy a reproachful glance, and Robin watched them both as he broke his fast. Were they friends? Enemies?

"You should never have allowed him to go, Guy. You're reckless enough with your own safety, but to have taken Robert along..."

Robin waited for an angry protest or sharp words, but there were none.

"I should have taken you along, Margaret. We would never have caught anything, but we would have been safe. You could have prayed for the good of the hunt."

Margaret hit Gisburne's arm, but she didn't do it hard enough to hurt him. "It's beastly to hunt down poor defenseless creatures. It's horrid."

"Well, the hounds have a right to their supper, don't they? And the horses needed some exercise..."

"I don't care," Margaret said. "I still don't approve of the sport."

"Oh, you'll never change, Margaret," Gisburne stated with a grin.

Margaret turned away from Gisburne in false contempt and focused her attention on Robin again. "Don't you think that Guy is an absolute boar? I would shun his company from now on." She smiled and patted Robin's arm. "How do you feel, Robert? Are you truly well?"

Robin's mouth had fallen open a little and he was staring at the woman in wonder. "Who are you?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

Margaret gasped and almost fell off the bed. "Guy, he doesn't know me anymore! He's forgotten who I am!"

"I'm fetching the physician," said Gisburne. He rose from his chair, held it out for Margaret, then left the room.

Margaret seemed a little dazed and hurt, as if Robin should have definitely known who she was. Gisburne knew her and even appeared to be on amiable terms with her. Robin couldn't remember seeing her before in his life.

"I'm sorry," said Robin gently, trying to soothe Margaret.

"Oh, no, don't be. You can hardly help it. It's not your fault. You really don't know who I am, do you?"

"No, I don't," Robin admitted.

"Robert, I'm your sister...Margaret."

"Sister?" Robin gasped. Now it was his turn to be shocked. How could this be? How could she be his sister? He didn't have a sister.

"Actually," said Margaret, as if reading his thoughts, "I'm only your half-sister. Guy is my full brother."

Of course, thought Robin. Margaret. That had been Lady Gisburne's name. This young woman must have been named after her.

"Margaret of Gisburne was your mother," said Robin aloud.

"What? My mother was Margaret of Huntingdon. I've never heard of her being called by that other name before. Well, at least you remembered that her name was Margaret. That's something."

Yes, but according to this woman's story, Lady Margaret was never a Gisburne but a Huntingdon, which meant that Lady Margaret must have married his father. But then how did he himself fit in, or his own mother for that matter? Lady Margaret had only died recently and she had died at Croxden Abbey, hadn't she?

"What happened to your mother?" asked Robin.

Margaret shifted in her chair and looked slightly taken aback. "She died in child-bed...shortly after I was born. Guy and I barely knew her. It was your mother who helped raise us. Your mother, Robert. Can you remember her?"

Robin hesitated, wondering what he should say. He was saved by Gisburne as he entered the room with the physician, who Robin knew as the kind old man who had helped him out of many injuries and illnesses as a child. The physician re-examined Robin's wounded head with the same thoroughness that Robin remembered from his childhood. That is, if this man had existed during his childhood.

The physician turned to Guy and smiled calmly. "There's no need to worry, my lord. I'm sure that with plenty of rest, our young Master Robert will be well again and able to remember everything."

"Well, that's good," said Gisburne, who appeared to be sincerely glad to hear the news. "I'm not taking my eyes off of you again, Robert."

Margaret laughed. "Yes, well, you're going to have to, Guy. Robert needs his rest and you won't be able to give him any. I will attend to him  
myself."

"That seems like sound advice, my lady," said the physician. "Under your care, he's sure to recover. I'll leave you to it." The physician left and Guy was about to do the same. His sister stopped him.

"Can I speak to you, Guy?" asked Margaret.

"Of course."

"Alone?"

"If you feel it's necessary."

"I do." She rose from her chair and kissed Robin's cheek lightly. "You just try to sleep. I'll return shortly." She took Gisburne's arm and nearly pulled him from the room.

Robin was curious. He wished to know what she had to say to Gisburne in private, but he was too tired to find out. All of this was so confusing and bizarre. What had happened?

Suddenly, he recalled how Herne had turned the Wheel of time, and Wickham itself had seemed to spin with it. Had that turn of the Wheel resulted in this? Everything was so different now, especially Gisburne! His face and body were the same, but his whole manner had changed completely. He was like a different person altogether. Then, there was his sister. It was as if she had appeared out of nowhere. Where were his friends? Were they alive in this strange new world and time? They certainly weren't in this castle. Robin hoped they were safe in Sherwood.

He yawned and struggled to stay awake. As soon as he could, he would have to find a way to return to Sherwood. Once there, he could find Herne and his friends. He needed to discover what had happened and escape from this time.

  


* * * * 

  
"Guy, I really think that there's something the matter with Robert," said Margaret.

"But the physician said that he would be fine. He had a bad knock on the head, that's all."

"He acted like he had never seen me before."

"Yes, that is strange. You are both so close. He should have remembered you. He remembered me."

"Well, you are brothers. Perhaps your tie with him is stronger."

"Yes..."

"He seemed to know our mother, although he called her Margaret of, um...Gisbone, or some such name, instead of Huntingdon."

"Gisburne? Are you sure?"

"Yes. Have you heard that name before?"

"That was what he called me when he first woke up. I don't know why. I've never even heard of this Gisburne before."

"Then why should he call you by that name?"

Guy's brow creased and he shook his head. "I don't know. I really don't know."

  


* * * * 

  


** Chapter Two **

  
Robin woke the next morning to the sound of birdsong outside his window. He blinked pleasantly as a ray of sunlight fell across his bed. It took him a few moments to remember where he was. When he did, he was more determined than ever to go to Sherwood to find his friends. He felt greatly replenished after his night of peaceful slumber. He was prepared to meet up with almost anything: even his new sister and brother.

He pushed the blankets back from his bed and managed to find some suitable clothes to wear before heading down to the great hall. As the oldest son of the Earl of Huntingdon, it would be Guy's place to be there, dealing with business of some kind while their father was away. Robin soon discovered that this was true, but the business Guy was dealing with was Margaret.

"Guy, I refuse to marry that man," said Margaret. "He's a hideous Welsh...animal!"

"He's not Welsh. His castle is just on the border, that's all. Besides, Father agreed to an alliance, and it is the King's wishes--"

"But I hate him! Guy, he's rude and brutish and, and...disgusting! You said that yourself when he came here a year ago. Why, he's not even Christian!" Margaret crossed herself, while Guy sighed and looked away.

"Margaret, there's nothing I can do," said Guy. "If Owen of Clun wants to marry you--"

"Owen of Clun!" cried Robin.

Guy and Margaret turned abruptly, seeing their younger brother for the first time in hours.

Margaret gazed at Robin in concern. "Robert, you should be in bed. You need your rest."

"I'm all right," said Robin, his mind still reeling with the news of Owen of Clun. He had thought the man was dead. "What is this marriage you're speaking of?" he asked.

Guy grimaced. "Oh, you remember Owen of Clun. He's that Marcher lord King John was trying to win over, so he could pass through Clun's land when he attacked Llwellyn. Half of the nobles in this shire came to the feast Father agreed to hold in Clun's honour. Owen was close to agreeing to King John's terms, but then decided against it for some reason..."

"But now that King John plans to march against the Welsh, he is more eager than ever to seek passage through Owen of Clun's lands," said Margaret. "Lord Owen of Clun will agree to this if he is given more land and power. He wants an alliance with Father and to do that he needs me. Don't you see, Robert? I've been made the pawn. In order to succeed, Lord Owen hopes to marry me!"

Guy rolled his eyes. "Margaret, it hasn't been agreed to yet."

"But according to this letter, it would seem that it has!" Margaret exclaimed. She folded her arms and fumed silently to herself. Robin didn't have to know her to see that she was furious. Of course, if Robin had been in her place, he would have been furious too. He had met Owen of Clun and could understand why anyone would hate him.

"You can't make her marry him," stated Robin firmly. "Owen of Clun is evil."

Guy lifted an eyebrow and studied his younger sibling for an instant before speaking. "It's not my choice to make. It's Father's."

"But Father isn't here," persisted Margaret, "and Owen of Clun could demand an answer before he returns."

"And you refuse to marry him."

"I believe that any lady would. Guy, think about it. Would Father allow me to marry a man like that?"

Guy bowed his head, his eyes fixed on the letter Margaret had placed on the table beside them.

"He wouldn't," replied Robin, "even if the King did wish it. Guy..." He paused, still not comfortable with using Gisburne's Christian name. "Guy, you mustn't agree to this. The King must find another way to form an agreement."

"You see," said Margaret. "Robert agrees with me."

"Be quiet, both of you!" snapped their older brother. "I'm trying to think." Guy took the letter in hand and began to skim through it. "It says here that there will be a feast in two days at Nottingham Castle. An agreement will be reached then. The High Sheriff, Robert de Rainault, will be representing the King in this matter. And, I suppose since Father is away, I'll be representing him...Besides that, the letter tells us nothing we don't know already." Guy lowered the parchment and lifted his eyes again. "I'm going to Nottingham."

"Today?" asked Margaret.

"Now," answered Guy. "See that my horse is saddled," he told a servant.

"Are you going to talk to the Sheriff, Guy?"

"It appears that I'm going to have to. He seems to be the only man who understands what's going on here! Margaret, you'll have to see to things while I'm gone. Robert, you should get some rest!"

"Guy, wait!" Robin followed Guy as he began walking out of the great hall. "I want to go with you," he said, knowing that this could be his best chance of reaching Sherwood.

"You're not well. You should stay at Huntingdon. You'll have other opportunities to go to Nottingham."

"I said I was fine," stated Robin, trying to sound earnest. "I could help. I want to help."

"Yes, well, all the same I think you should stay here, Robert."

"But Guy..." But the older brother was off again and Robin almost had to jog to keep up with him. Robin was determined to go with Guy to Nottingham. He had to find a way to reach his friends in Sherwood, even if it meant begging Gisburne for permission to do so! It reminded him of the arguments he used to have with his father. Then Robin realized how much Guy was like the Earl of Huntingdon and was startled by that fact. Through all of his encounters with Gisburne had he been battling his evil brother or his father? They entered the courtyard.

"Guy, she's my sister too! I have every right to go!"

"Right? Don't speak to me about rights! I'm your older brother, Robert. I have every right to tell you to remain here!" Guy paused, gained control of his emotions, and even managed to smile. Arguing with his brother wasn't sensible. If Robert really wanted to go, why should he stop him? Their father wanted Robert to take on more responsibilities..."Well," said Guy, "I suppose I could use some company on the journey, especially since we'll be riding through Sherwood..." Robin beamed at the thought of it. Luckily, Guy didn't notice. "All right, you can come. But I'm giving you our sister's horse to ride!"

  


* * * * 

  
It was a bright and beautiful day. The sun's rays were filtering through the trees as the two brothers entered the forest. The branches of the trees circled closely around them, and Robin felt more secure because of it. They had entered his domain now. He listened to Guy's incessant chatter with half an ear and fell to thinking of the freedom he would soon hold again in Sherwood.

"Looking for outlaws, Robert?" asked Guy, and Robin turned to him in surprise. His glances through the trees must have been more eager than he had realized. "They say there are quite a few in these parts," added Guy. "We shall have to watch our backs."

"Yes," murmured Robin.

Guy began speaking about the joys of the hunt again and the wonders of a good horse. At least in this respect Gisburne hadn't changed.

Suddenly, Robin's trained ears heard a twig snap. He knew that someone was about. He looked in the trees, but saw no nets or rope for anyone to swing down from. However, he did see a rope lying across the road and worked out the trick.

There would be at least one man on either side of the road waiting for a traveller or soldier to go past. When the victim had come close enough, the men would raise the rope and knock the rider from his saddle.

Robin would have shared this knowledge with Guy, but Guy seemed so enthralled with the subject of hounds that...

"Jesus Christ!" roared Guy. He stared furiously at the men who had surrounded him, but it was the other brother that was the more shocked of the two.

"Robin!" he gasped, and the dark-haired young man beamed a polite smile. It was Robin of Loxley, a man who should have been dead. Robin, the Earl of Huntingdon's son, gawked at the outlaw in disbelief. How was this possible? How could Loxley still be alive?

"You filthy serfs!" said Guy, who desperately wanted to rise from the ground but couldn't. There were at least five arrows aimed at his throat.

Loxley studied his fallen adversary for a few moments. Then he signalled to his men, none of whom Robin recognized, to lower their weapons.

Guy stood up brusquely, ignoring the hand Loxley offered him. "How dare you assault me?" he shouted. "Who are you, boy?"

"My name is Robin Hood," stated Loxley calmly.

"Robin Hood, is it? Yes, I believe I've heard of you."

"But I don't believe I've heard of you," said Loxley boldly.

"I am Guy of Huntingdon, the Earl of Huntingdon's son."

"Are you?" Loxley smiled again. "Who's this?" he asked, nodding his head in Robin's direction.

"He's my brother, Robert," answered Guy. "Not that it is any of your business, cutthroat. I demand that you let us pass, or I'll see that you have the Sheriff of Nottingham to answer to!"

"We mean you no harm. We only want your money."

"My money!"

"For the poor and oppressed."

"But I've brought no money, wolfshead."

"Then we'll have your horse."

"What good will my horse do you?"

"Well, he'd earn a fair price at the market and, if nothing else, he could feed a whole village for a month," joked Loxley. The other outlaws laughed heartily, but Guy wasn't amused. His sword was soon out of its scabbard.

"If you want my horse, wolfshead, you're going to have to fight me for it," said Guy.

"Fight?" asked Loxley, and Robin was surprised to see him hesitate.

"What's the matter?" said Guy. "Do you lack the courage?"

The other outlaws exchanged concerned glances, but Albion appeared nevertheless.

Both swords crashed together and the fight began. Robin noted that Guy's skill had remained about the same, while Loxley's had greatly deteriorated. Loxley swung Albion through the air with heavy, clumsy strokes, like a boy just learning to fight. Then Robin realized that this was probably what Loxley was. None of the other men wore swords at their belts. It was obvious that they couldn't fight either. Perhaps without the skill of such men as Will Scarlet, none of the outlaws had been properly trained to do so. Will. Where was he? Where were any of them?

Loxley gasped as Albion was wrenched from his hand. Guy held his sword at the outlaw's throat.

"No!" cried Robin. He quickly dismounted his horse and ran between them.

"I wasn't going to kill him," stated Guy cooly, placing his sword back in its scabbard. "I wouldn't have wasted my breath."

The other men quickly had their arrows aimed again, but Loxley ordered them to lower their bows.

"You fought well," admitted Loxley. "The horse is yours."

"As it always was," said Guy. He mounted his steed, and Robin had no choice but to do likewise. He looked around miserably. What had happened? Where were his friends?

"Robin!" called a voice, and Robin's heart leaped.

"Much?" Robin said.

The young man appeared, but he stared up at Robin blankly, his nose crinkling in confusion. "Do I know you, my lord?" he asked.

Guy was watching Robin with questioning eyes. "Do you know this boy, Robert?"

"No," answered his brother quietly. "I must have been mistaken."

"Much, where have you been?" demanded Loxley. "You should have been here over an hour ago."

"I was helping Father."

"You're an outlaw, Much. You shouldn't have even been there."

"But I promised, and-and he said I could go with him when he went to Laxton."

"Laxton! Much, you're the best archer I've got. I need you here!"

"But Robin--"

"How are we supposed to fight for the people if you're not even here half the time? What if someone passes through Sherwood? We'd need your help, then."

"Yes, I'm sure he would," said Guy, sounding smug. "Why don't you just turn yourself in, Robin Hood? Your petty raids and ambushes are pathetic. You're nothing but a common nuisance. I shall report this outrage to the Sheriff and see that you are hanged for your impudence. Come, Robert, these men are idiots." Guy gave his reins a sharp jerk, and his horse glided smoothly past the outlaws. Loxley's gaze fell upon Robin for a moment, before he and Much began to argue again.

  


* * * * 

  
As soon as he and Guy had entered the great hall of Nottingham Castle, Robin knew that some things hadn't changed. The Sheriff and his brother were there as usual, discussing problems that Hugo was having with his land. The Sheriff was trying to placate his brother but not succeeding.

Guy told a servant that he and his brother wished to be announced. The Sheriff and Abbot Hugo leapt up as the names of their visitors echoed through the hall.

"My lord of Huntingdon," said the Sheriff. He and his brother bowed to Guy and then Robin, much to the latter's surprise. "Please sit down, my lords. Ralph, bring us some wine," he commanded to his steward. The alert young man nodded and hurried off to fetch some.

"We've just been attacked by Robin Hood," stated Guy. The Sheriff and his brother froze in their chairs.

"By heaven!" cried the Abbot.

"My lord, were you injured?" asked the Sheriff, who sounded most anxious.

"No," said Guy. "We were fortunate enough to escape. That man is a menace, Sheriff. He should be dealt with."

"Oh, he will be, my lord. He will be. Yes. Ever since he tried to lead that rebellion, he's been too headstrong for his own good."

"He's starting to become dangerous," said Hugo. "One of my best foresters was found with an arrow in his back!"

Guy glanced at Robin. "That could have been us couldn't it, Robert?"

Robin nodded sullenly.

"Ralph, I want soldiers to be sent to Sherwood at once," said the Sheriff when his steward returned.

"Make it fifty," instructed Guy.

"Uh, yes...fifty," repeated the Sheriff, regretting that he had to use so many men. "And, Ralph, lead them yourself, will you?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Now to other business," said the Sheriff, trying to steer the conversation away from Robin Hood.

Guy was quite happy to change the subject as well. "Oh, yes. After all that has happened, I almost forgot. I need to speak to you about Owen of Clun...and this marriage."

"Ah, the marriage..." purred the Sheriff, thinking about how happy it would make the King and, in turn, himself.

"I want the wedding stopped," said Guy.

"What?" exclaimed both the Sheriff and his brother.

"I want you to find a way to stop it, Sheriff. My sister is unhappy and she refuses to marry the man."

"Well, can't you force her?" asked the Sheriff peevishly.

"I love my sister!"

"Oh, yes, of course you do!" cried the Sheriff frantically. "Of course you do, my lord! We can't make your dear sister marry if she doesn't want to."

"But, Robert, what about the King?" hissed Hugo.

"Uh, yes...the King...That does make things difficult. You see, my lord..." The Sheriff started to explain about the politics involved with such a marriage and the dire consequences that could result if such a marriage was not carried through. Robin barely heard any of it. He waited for the appropriate moment then silently crept from the hall, intent on discovering what he could while he was still in the castle.

There might be a servant who could give him information about his friends and their whereabouts, though if his friends weren't in Sherwood where could they be? Would any of them be in Nottingham?

"Brother Tuck!" called a voice from another corridor. It sounded like a young girl. Robin moved closer.

"What is it, my child?" asked Tuck, employing the gentle learned tone of a dedicated priest.

"Oh, Brother Tuck, I sought penance for my sins and I think God has forgiven me," she said.

"But have you forgiven yourself and are you truly repentant for what you have done?"

"Oh yes, Brother Tuck!" cried the girl. "But...will you listen to another confession? I think I might have left something out, or...I might have sinned again."

Robin heard his friend's cheerful laugh as Tuck patted her arm. "Aye, I'll listen to another confession."

"Thank you, Brother Tuck," the girl said sweetly.

Tuck smiled grimly. "Please don't mention it, my child."

She giggled and scurried off, failing to notice Robin as she passed.

"You can come out now, my friend." Tuck had seen a flash of Robin's tunic. He had known that someone had been listening to his conversation. Robin did what was honest and stepped out into the corridor.

"Tuck," he said.

"Do I know you?" asked the other man.

"Oh, Tuck, not you as well!" groaned Robin.

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand."

"Tuck, don't you know me at all?" implored Robin, almost desperately.

"No. I can't remember ever seeing you before. Should I know you?"

"I...I don't know anymore. I'm Robin...Robert of Huntingdon."

"Oh, yes..." mused Tuck. "You must be Guy of Huntingdon's younger brother." Robin grimaced but nodded.

"What are you doing here?" asked Robin. "Why aren't you in Sherwood?"

"Sherwood? Should I be...? I'm the Sheriff's chaplain, my lord. My place is here."

_The Sheriff's chaplain?_ Robin remembered that Tuck had once been the Sheriff's chaplain, but he had given all of that up when he had joined Loxley and the others. Hadn't he?

"My lord, are you all right? If I can help you in any way..." began Tuck.

"Yes, I think you can. Tell me what happened to the others."

"The others?"

"You know. John, Will, Nasir...Marion."

"Marion?"

"Yes!" cried Robin, realizing he had gotten through to Tuck at last. "Marion. Marion of Leaford. You must know where she is, Tuck."

"Aye, but she's Marion of Leaford no longer," said Tuck sadly. "I'd stay away from her if I were you."

Robin gasped. "Why?" he demanded in alarm. "Where-where is she, Tuck?"

The chaplain sighed. He seemed to find it difficult to speak about. "She's at Belleme Castle. She's Simon de Belleme's wife."

"Wife!"

"Well, no...his widow. Belleme was killed two years ago."

"And Marion...?"

"Is the baroness."

"But that can't be!" protested Robin. "She never married him! She was rescued by Robin Hood. They were in love...He wouldn't have let Belleme marry her!"

"Lady Marion in love with Robin Hood? It's the first I've heard of it!"

"But she...She could never have married Belleme..."

"Well, she did. She was forced into it. From what I've heard, the Baron wanted a sacrifice to his devils and Lady Marion was to be that sacrifice: the virgin innocent and pure. But he changed his mind somehow. I don't know why. Maybe she was more useful to him alive. Well, whatever happened, she hasn't been the same since. From that day forward, she changed."

"Changed? What do you mean, Tuck?"

The chaplain opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by Guy's shouts.

"Robert! Robert, where are you?"

Robin cursed silently.

"I'd better go," said Tuck, who started to shuffle away.

"Tuck!"

"Robert! Where have you gone?" yelled Guy.

"Tuck, come back," pleaded Robin. "We have to talk."

"There's a feast in two days," stated Tuck. "Will you be there?"

"Two days! Tuck, I can't wait that long."

"Robert!"

"I'm sorry, my son," said Tuck again. "I want to help you, but I must go. Come to the chapel when you can and we'll sort through this together."

"Tuck!"

"Robert, where on earth have you gone?"

Robin turned in exasperation and rushed back to the great hall, meeting his brother halfway.

"Oh, there you are, Robert. I thought you had gone deaf. Where did you go anyway? Oh, well, it doesn't matter. Come on. Let's go."

"Go? Now?"

"Of course. Our business here with that miserable little man is done."

"But isn't there anything else you need to discuss?" asked Robin, trying to gain some more time.

"Not a thing," answered Guy obstinately. "The sooner we leave here, the better. That imbecile has said that it's impossible for us to stop the wedding and that an agreement is an agreement. As if we had the chance to agree to anything! Margaret's going to be terribly upset...She'll go on about it for days," he grumbled.

"But why can't we just bargain with Clun ourselves. We could attack him if need be, or even hide Margaret somewhere in Sherwood," said Robin before thinking: something Gisburne was supposed to be an expert at. Guy laughed, thinking it was a joke.

"You are funny sometimes, Robert," he said, thumping Robin on the back. "Well, we mustn't stand about here all day, brother. We've got to get going. There's nothing to hold us in Nottingham."

  


* * * * 

  
The lady visited her husband's crypt, tracing the carvings on the stone with a finger. It seemed as if a century had passed since she had married him. He had forced her to marry him with his spells, possessing her and holding her in his power. She had tried to fight it, but the Lords of Darkness had overtaken her soul in the end. They made her their slave and victim as they had done with her husband, Simon de Belleme.

He was gone now. She was alone, alone with the Lords of Darkness. They called for her in her dreams, plagued her thoughts, and made her worship them. She feared Azael and the Lords of Darkness, but found herself excited by them too.

They were crying out for chaos and destruction, to destroy the balance between good and evil in the universe. Evil was to exist everywhere and they were to reign like gods on the backs of the victims sacrificed in their honour.

They wanted power: more power than she possessed. They needed an influential lord to take Simon de Belleme's place and carry out the deeds of Azael. The Baroness was to seek out that lord and make him Azael's slave...or die trying.

  


* * * * 

  
"I'm sorry, Margaret, but you'll have to marry him," said Guy.

Margaret was sewing in one of the castle's antechambers and had been waiting anxiously for her brothers' return. Her hands quivered a little. She dropped her needle, sitting transfixed before them. "I must marry him?"

"Yes. The Sheriff says it would be impossible to break the agreement. The King is determined that this marriage will take place. Any action taken against his wishes would be seen as treason."

"So if I refuse the marriage, I would be accused of treason by the King?"

"No...not you."

"Father!"

"Yes."

"Then there's nothing I can do. I have to marry Owen of Clun..."

Guy bent his head, unable to watch the tears that flooded down his sister's face. "I tried Margaret...I tried." His face had turned even paler than hers. Robin suddenly realized that beneath all of his pompously brave words and actions, Guy had been upset too!

Margaret seemed to notice this as well. She took his hand, forcing herself to smile as he looked back at her. "Don't be sad, Guy. Everything will be all right. I just need time to accept this, that's all. Owen can't be as bad a man as we have made him out to be. There's a bit of good in everyone, I think. I've just got to look a little harder to find it in him, especially since he's a heathen. Oh, Guy, you once said that I could put the fear of God into anybody, even, God forgive me, Lucifer himself! By being a good and patient wife, I shall help him to see God's light and his soul will be saved. I will be a better Christian for it and, with that knowledge alone, I shall be happy," she proclaimed.

Guy wrenched his hand away and headed towards the door.

"Guy!"

"I don't care about Clun's bloody soul or your piety to God!" Guy fumed. And he slammed the door behind him.

  


* * * * 

  
"Tell me what happened at Nottingham Castle this morning, John," commanded the lady to the giant, who had been known as Little John in another time. The bearded man bowed his head then kneeled at his mistress' feet.

"My lady, two lords visited the Sheriff and the Abbot Hugo."

"Who were these lords?"

"They were brothers, sons of the Earl of Huntingdon."

"His sons? Yes, I remember. Guy and Robert...Go on. Do you know what they spoke of?"

"Guy of Huntingdon wanted to stop his sister's marriage to Owen of Clun. He argued with the Sheriff about it. The Sheriff said there was nothing he could do to stop the wedding. Guy of Huntingdon became angry and left the castle."

"Then it is as I have seen it...John, tell the servants to prepare my belongings and ready the horses. And fetch Nasir. Tell him we're going to Nottingham Castle to spend a few days there as the Sheriff's guests."

"Yes, my lady," replied John, his voice devoid of emotion. He left the room and Marion de Belleme smiled, clapping her hands together.

"Guy of Huntingdon," Marion murmured and she began to laugh aloud.

  


* * * * 

  
"My lord, the Baroness de Belleme is coming towards the castle," reported Ralph.

"God's Teeth!" groaned de Rainault. "Not Marion again!" He bustled off to the courtyard and arrived just in time to greet her.

"Lady Marion. How good it is to see you again," lied the Sheriff. Marion was assisted from her horse, and the Sheriff politely kissed her hand. "My lady, the feast isn't for another two days. I'm flattered that I should receive a visit from you so soon."

"I've come to stay, Sheriff," Marion announced and she walked past him into the castle. John and Nasir were flanking her on either side. The Sheriff hurried after her. She gave orders to her two servants and looked calmly around the castle.

Marion was still quite young, but much of her girlish spirit had left her. She was the widow of a baron with important matters on her mind. She hardly seemed like the Marion of old, who had been so gentle and kind-hearted. Her years at Belleme Castle had made her harder. Much harder. She was still rather stubborn, free-willed, and clever too, but all of these assets were being used for evil purposes rather than good ones.

Her beautiful auburn hair had been restricted by a tight bun and hidden under a dark veil. Even her lively face had become more pale and hardened.

She resembled a dark statuette with her severe black gown. She seemed rather frail, but she was stronger than she looked. She had great control over herself and, for that matter, other people as well. She was a powerful woman and expected to be treated like one, as the Sheriff quickly discovered.

Marion seated herself in the great hall, watching the Sheriff expectantly, as if waiting to be served. The Sheriff poured her some wine then sat down beside the young woman who had once been his ward. He feared her. He feared her almost as much as he had feared her husband. Sometimes he feared her more.

Marion did not like the Sheriff, but she believed he could be useful. She smiled at him sweetly, and the Sheriff knew that she was up to something.

"My lord," said Marion, "I have heard news that there is to be a marriage between Margaret of Huntingdon and the Marcher lord, Owen of Clun. Is this true?"

"Yes, my lady. In fact, I am representing the King himself in this matter," boasted the Sheriff.

"You are? Then you must be on good terms with the Earl of Huntingdon," observed Marion pleasantly.

"Well yes, I suppose so, my lady," said the Sheriff.

"And his sons?" asked the lady.

"His sons? Ah, well..."

"Guy of Huntingdon doesn't want this marriage to take place, does he?"

"How do you know that?" questioned the Sheriff in alarm.

"I have my ways," Marion responded softly. "Tell me, what is to be gained by this marriage?"

"Why, the King shall gain passage through Owen of Clun's lands, and Owen of Clun shall form an alliance with one of the most influential families in England."

"But surely he won't gain everything. Lady Margaret is just the daughter. The earldom won't be his..."

"The earldom will go to the oldest son."

"Guy of Huntingdon?"

"Yes."

"And then to his oldest son?"

"He is unmarried, my lady, but--"

"Oh, I see," said Marion.

The Sheriff eyed her warily. "My lady, may I ask why you are taking such an interest in all of this?"

"No, you may not!" Marion snapped. Then she smiled, deciding to be indulgent. "Because Azael wishes it and Azael is everything," she uttered. The Sheriff crossed himself, and Marion fingered the silver pentacle around her neck.

  


* * * * 

  
Robin gazed out of a window, eyeing some trees beyond the castle's garden. He wished he was back in Sherwood, where the trees were taller and one could look several miles before seeing any sign of a building or castle.

Although it was good to be back at Huntingdon, the castle where he had been born and raised, he knew it wasn't his home now. He felt alienated by it. He was a stranger to Huntingdon, possessing a brother and sister he barely knew. Also, his mind kept wandering back to Herne, Marion, his friends and Sherwood.

He still wondered about the fates of Will Scarlet, Little John and Nasir. Would Will be living in Lichfield with his brother? Would John be a shepherd in Hathersage? Would Nasir even be in England now, or was he in the Holy Land? Then, there was Marion. Was Marion really the Baroness de Belleme? What was it that Tuck had tried to warn him about her? Robin couldn't understand why she would be seen as a threat.

How was it that Robin of Loxley was still alive? Why had only Much joined him? Since Loxley was still alive why wasn't Marion with him? Why hadn't he rescued her from Belleme? They should have been happily married and living in Sherwood, along with not just Much, but the others as well. Why had everything changed so completely?

He would have to find a way to see Herne. Only Herne could provide the answers he required and help him find a way to escape from all of this.

He could disappear tonight while Guy and Margaret were at the feast. They would be leaving within the hour. He could return to Sherwood soon after. This could all be over in a matter of hours. Herne would turn the Wheel of Time again, and everything would be as it should be.

Unfortunately, the situation was more complicated than Robin had imagined. He had family problems he hadn't even begun to think about...

"I'm going, Guy!" yelled Margaret, as she and her brother stepped into the garden. "I have every right to be at a feast that determines my future!" Her voice echoed as it travelled up the walls to Robin.

"I said I'd take care of it," said Guy. "You're not needed there. And, besides, last night you told me that you didn't want to go!"

"Well, I do now and-and you promised!"

"I promised nothing!"

"I'm going!"

"Well, go then! Why should it matter to me?" Guy headed into the castle, climbed a set of stairs, and ended up in the same room as Robin. They stared at each other for a few moments and then the older brother strode past the younger one without a word.

"Guy!" Margaret was running up the stairs after him. She gasped a little in surprise when she met Robin on her way past.

"He went that way," replied Robin, pointing helpfully towards the door.

"Thank you." Margaret was about to leave when she suddenly decided against it. "No, maybe I shouldn't go after all. He doesn't want me to and I'm not really certain if I wish to go."

"But you have to go," said Robin, realizing that she was changing her mind about the feast. He needed her to go or he might not be able to reach Sherwood.

"Oh, Robert, he's been angry ever since he returned from Nottingham! If it will help him keep his temper, then maybe I should stay."

"No, Margaret, you should go. Forget Guy and his temper. You deserve to go. Besides, he's not angry with you. He's angry about the marriage."

"Do you really think I should go?" asked Margaret.

"Yes! Go, Margaret. Go."

"Oh...I don't know..."

"You must go," stated Robin firmly.

Margaret hesitated for a moment then turned to Robin with eager eyes. "Then come with me, Robert."

"What?"

"Oh, please. I couldn't possibly bear it alone."

"But-but Guy will be with you."

"Guy's barely speaking to me and-and when he does speak to me, we only quarrel. Oh, you must come, Robert," she pleaded. "Please..."

Robin didn't want to go, but he found it impossible to refuse her. She looked as if she truly needed help. Surely his visit to Sherwood could be postponed for just a little longer. If he went to the feast, he could meet with Tuck in the chapel as Tuck had suggested. The monk could provide him with more information about Marion and possibly the others. It couldn't hurt to know more about the situation he was dealing with. He decided that his visit to Sherwood could wait and soon found himself relenting.

"Oh, thank you, Robert!" Margaret cried, kissing him on the cheek. "You had better speak to Guy and tell him you're going. I'll have a servant prepare your things." She clasped her hands together and hurried off, her pale face almost glowing now that some of her burden had been lifted. Robin felt a twinge of guilt. Margaret was his sister and he had done nothing before this to help her.

He would help her now by attending the Sheriff's feast. At least he could make that one effort for his sister: a sister he wouldn't have after the Wheel turned.

Robin headed off to find his brother. He found Guy in another chamber talking to the steward.

"I sent him a letter two days ago. Are you certain there's been no reply?" said Guy.

"No, my lord. The Earl has sent nothing."

"God's Blood," cursed Guy. He fell heavily into a chair. Then, as if by instinct, he lifted his eyes to Robin. "Leave us," he told the steward and, with a nod, he invited Robin in.

"You're going tonight, aren't you?" Guy asked.

"Well..." began Robin.

"Good," replied Guy. "I'll need your help. It could prove to be a difficult evening."

"It could?"

"Yes. You have to promise me that you'll support any decision I might make tonight and stay on my side no matter what happens."

"Your side?" asked Robin. He didn't understand why Guy was asking him this.

"This is very important, Robert. Can you promise me that?"

There was a long pause as Robin considered the matter carefully. What was Guy planning? Could he really trust him? He was his brother. He was going to have to.

"I promise."

"Thank you," said Guy and, before Robin knew it, his brother had disappeared from sight.

  


* * * * 

  


** Chapter Three  **

  
Several hours later, Robin found himself in Nottingham Castle. He sat at the high table between the Sheriff and Guy, feeling much as he had felt the last time he had shared a meal with the two men: more than just a little disgusted. However, this time it wasn't the Sheriff or Guy who were causing his disgust. Owen of Clun had been placed at the far end of the table, and Margaret had been made his unfortunate supper companion.

Margaret sat stiffly, looking as if she were trying desperately not to cry. With everyone watching her, she couldn't.

Clun had been telling her stories about his blood games and the prowess of his champion, describing the horrors of Clun Castle in intimate detail.

In turn, Margaret had tried to be as polite and civil as possible, but she soon discovered that this effort on her part was futile. Clun did not care about manners or decorum. He was a barbarian and such concepts eluded him.

Margaret sat mutely. She touched nothing on her plate, her hands clenched fiercely in her lap. Robin felt compelled to watch her, as painful as it was to do so. He glanced at Guy. He was watching Margaret too or, rather, Owen of Clun.

Like Margaret, Guy had paid little attention to the food on his plate. He had only picked at it with his dagger. His eyes were ice, and Robin could detect a gleam within them that was almost murderous. He would have to keep a close watch on Guy tonight in case he was as willing to act on his feelings as Gisburne usually was. Robin still couldn't be sure what characteristics kept Guy of Gisburne and Guy of Huntingdon apart, or what qualities they shared in common.

The tension seemed to grow with every minute that passed. It only lessened to a degree, when Guy finally tore his eyes away and the tables from supper had been cleared away for the further festivities of the night: festivities that entailed more than any of the guests had first anticipated.

As the light dimmed, and the servants lit more candles, she came. She appeared from the shadows, floating gracefully into the light. She charmed all of the guests as they each, in turn, beheld her.

Her hair flowed loosely down her back, glowing in the torchlight. She was dressed in an impressive gown of deep purple silk that rustled softly across the floor as she walked. She moved like a dancer, her eyes sparkling with some secret enchantment. The guests cleared a path for her, moving as if controlled by magic. Everyone was silent as she walked towards the center of the hall. She was beautiful, so beautiful that she was bewitching.

Robin stared at her in amazement. "Marion?" he whispered. But it was as if he did not exist. Marion ignored him completely, neglecting to even toss Robin a glance. Instead, she walked over to Guy. She curtsied, taking his hand as she did so.

"My Lord of Huntingdon," she said, and Guy gaped at her, bewildered.

  


* * * * 

"Who are you?" Guy asked as Marion rose from her curtsy and smiled up at him.

"My name is Marion," the baroness answered.

"Marion," Guy mused. Then he smiled too. Gradually, the silence that had filled the hall reverted back to a healthy noise; the guests began to speak among themselves. Robin stood watching Guy and Marion. He couldn't believe it. Marion was being polite to Guy and, even more shocking, friendly as well! What was she doing? She hated him. Why should she wish to speak to him? Robin knew that Guy wasn't Gisburne, but surely he wasn't the type of man Marion would choose to speak with. What was she up to? Guy seemed to be wondering the same thing.

"My lady, why...why did you present yourself to me? I'm not the host, or the guest of honour. You should have greeted the Sheriff or Owen of Clun."

"But, my lord, I wished to greet you," said Marion. "I've already had the _honour_ of meeting the Sheriff, and Lord Owen of Clun is with Lady Margaret." Guy looked quickly past Marion to his wretched sister and frowned. "You disapprove?" asked Marion.

"It's not for me to say," Guy replied curtly.

"Then it should be," said Marion gently and, to Guy's surprise and Robin's chagrin, she took Guy's hand and kissed it. Guy's frown promptly left him. Then, so did Marion.

"Wait! Come back!" cried Guy, but it was Robin who went after Marion.

"Marion!" said Robin.

Marion turned, thinking it was Guy. Robin quickly read the disappointment on her face.

"What is it?" Marion asked coldly, as if speaking to a mere slave. Robin felt as if his heart might stop.

"What are you doing?" demanded Robin angrily. "What's happened to you?"  
"What do you mean?" Marion said. "I don't even know you!"

"But you did once, Marion...So did Much and Tuck. You just don't remember. It...it was another time," Robin muttered, feeling foolish at the words he chose to use as an explanation.

"Another time?" Marion asked. "What are you talking about? Who are you?"

"I'm Robert of Huntingdon," said Robin, wishing he wasn't.

Marion laughed lightly. "Oh, I see..."

Did she see? Did she understand?

"You're Guy of Huntingdon's younger brother!" said Marion. "You dear boy. How sweet!" She patted Robin's cheek as if he were a child then walked away.

"Marion!" shouted Robin, but Marion only laughed some more before continuing on her way.

"What a woman," said Guy, suddenly appearing at Robin's side. "She...she is incredible! So beautiful...and what spirit!"

Robin stared at Guy, his anger growing into fury. He wanted to hit him. He wanted to hit him with a force that would send him reeling against a wall, smashing his bones as it did so. He wanted to hit him harder than he had ever hit Gisburne.

Guy spoke about Marion as one might speak about a horse. He didn't love her. He was amused by her. He thought of her as an entertaining diversion. Guy had no real feelings for her, and Robin hated him for that. Robin had been in love with Marion since the first time he had set eyes on her. It had been less than a fortnight ago that they were to have been married in Wickham. Robin had lost her to the church and, now that she was free, she was chasing after Guy! And Guy didn't seem too upset by the idea. In fact, he really seemed to be enjoying it! Robin remembered the look on Marion's face when she had spoken to him. It was the same look he had seen when she had been the captive bride of Owen of Clun, possessed and controlled by Gulnar. It was as if she were being controlled now, as if she were under someone else's power...

Robin shivered as he felt an icy tendril reach across the room to touch his back. Gulnar had entered the hall. He went over to speak to his master.

"Where have you been?" demanded Clun, pulling him aside and out of Margaret's earshot. "You should have been here. This feast could determine if there will be a marriage between myself and that Huntingdon girl, Gulnar, and if there will be sons in the House of Clun to carry on my name. Where were you? Meddling with your spells?"

"No, master," hissed Gulnar. "I was doing something much more important than that!" He flashed Margaret a hideous leer, and she shuddered, seeking refuge by Guy's side. Gulnar's eyes followed her, but rested themselves on Robin.

They widened and the right one twitched. Then, he started to laugh, a hollow eery laugh. It echoed throughout the hall, taunting Robin and challenging him to a deadly battle between the Powers of Light and Darkness.

_I have to leave here_, Robin thought. _I have to go to Sherwood._ He bolted from the hall, his feet carrying him away from Gulnar's maniacal laughter.

"Robert! Robert, where are you going? Come back here!" commanded Guy. But Robin didn't care. Guy could shout his lungs out if he wanted to. Robin had had enough. He marched down a corridor, hoping it would be one that could lead him out of the castle. Where it led him though was to the chapel and Tuck, who was delighted to see that Robin had sought him out at last.

"Welcome, my son," said Tuck. "Sit down and I shall hear your confession." He tried to usher Robin to a chair, but this wasn't what Robin had had in mind.

"Uh...no, Tuck," Robin stated quickly. "I'm sorry but there isn't time."

Tuck smiled gently. "My son, the Lord always has time."

"I'm sorry, Tuck. I have to go. I can't give you a confession."

"Then we should talk. You look upset."

"I'm fine. I really must go."

"Where? What are you running from?"

"I'm not running from anything."

Tuck frowned. "Then why do you insist on leaving?"

Robin groaned. Tuck was the one who was being insistent. Why did he have to be so stubborn?

"It would help if you talked about it," added Tuck.

"There's nothing to talk about," said Robin, although he sat down all the same.

"Does this have anything to do with your brother?" asked Tuck. Robin wondered if there was ever a time when it didn't. Tuck sensed that he was right and continued. "I saw him and the Lady Marion speaking to one another at the feast."

"You did?"

"I was looking for you. We agreed to meet, remember?"

"I remember."

"You were concerned when I told you about her. Maybe we should speak about that and how you feel about her and your brother."

Robin shook his head. He couldn't believe that any of this was really happening.

"I want to help," said Tuck. He laid a hand on Robin's shoulder, smiling, attempting to give him some reassurance.

Maybe Tuck could help. He seemed to be the same kind and understanding man whom Robin had always known. It was a question of whether Robin could trust him or not. Robin decided that he didn't have much else to lose if he took that risk.

"Tuck, I want to talk to you, but not just about the feast or Guy and Marion. I want to tell you everything."

"Aye, all right," said Tuck.

"I wouldn't agree too quickly," warned Robin. "This could be a very long story."

  


* * * * 

  
The Baroness de Belleme entered the courtyard, glad to be free of the smoky, crowded hall. She took a breath and inhaled some of the fresh, cool air surrounding her. The wind blew through her hair and caressed the soft fabric of her dress. She crossed her arms, hugging herself for warmth. The nights were becoming colder now as autumn and winter made their approach. Soon the leaves would die and fall from the trees to the ground, the downy white snow covering them like a blanket.

She watched the night's stars, her mind racing with thoughts of her plan. She had caught Guy of Huntingdon's attention, but she had yet to capture his heart. He had seemed interested enough in her. He may have even been attracted to her. But would this be enough? She didn't want to resort to sorcery, but she would do so if it became necessary. She needed to act quickly. Azael and the Lords of Darkness demanded it.

She sighed and walked briskly across the rough stones of the courtyard. She had to succeed. She could not afford to fail. She knew what kind of fate awaited her if she did. It made her blood run cold...

She gave a start and froze, terrified by the sudden vision that appeared before her. It came forward, a pale being skulking close to the ground. For a moment, Marion mistook it for an apparition. She feared that it might be a spirit sent from the underworld to torment her. She wasn't far from being right. Her ghostly spectre was Gulnar.

The bald and bony little man gave a satisfied chuckle once he had spotted Marion. She eyed him with disgust.

"Marion, how good it is to see you again," he said, waiting to observe her reaction.

"We've never met!" Marion answered in alarm.

"Oh..." Gulnar replied, feigning sadness. "I must have been mistaken." He turned to walk back the way he had come, but Marion grabbed his arm. He grinned, peering at her with almost wolfish delight.

"Who are you?" Marion demanded, her courage returning again.

"I am Gulnar, servant to the Lord of Clun," said Gulnar.

"Your master is the Lord of Clun?"

"Yes..."

"You're a sorcerer," said Marion, realizing this at once.

"Yes," Gulnar purred. "And you are a sorceress: a very powerful one at that!"

Marion smiled, pretending to be flattered by the compliment. "Your master is hoping to wed Margaret of Huntingdon, is he not?" she asked innocently.

"Yes, and so he shall!"

"Are you sure? I think he will not."

Gulnar's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. "What do you mean?" he cried. "Why do you think that?"

"Her brother is against the marriage and he dislikes your master."

"Ha! Do you really think he would dare stop this marriage?" snarled Gulnar.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he tried," said Marion.

"Then the man's a fool!" snapped Gulnar.

Marion shrugged. She gave no response, but Gulnar was aware of what she was thinking.

"I know what you are planning," said Gulnar. "You are planning to wed Guy of Huntingdon."

Marion lifted her eyebrows, but gave away nothing. "What makes you think that?" she asked calmly.

"Because Azael and the Lords of Darkness wish it!"

Marion gasped. "How could you know that?" she exclaimed.

"I see things," said Gulnar, with the wise tone of a sage. "You need him for your plans. I could help you."

"Help me?"

"I could break a man's spirit in the moment it takes for a bird to flutter its wing," Gulnar stated, and Marion felt as if his eyes were delving into her soul. She forced herself to look away, and Gulnar chuckled at what appeared to be weakness on her part. Marion then glared back fiercely, and Gulnar's laughter stopped.

Marion placed her hands on her hips and studied Gulnar shrewdly. "And what would you gain from this?"

"I would gain nothing, but my master would gain everything. You said that Guy of Huntingdon was against this marriage?"

"Yes."

"Well, you could help convince him that it is right. He could cause trouble if he continues to go against my master."

"And you think I could convince him?"

Gulnar sneered. "Oh, yes. I'm sure you could, my lady. In return, I shall do what I can to help you if..."

"If?"

"If the House of Clun is spared when the great Azael comes to power. We would willingly serve him of course, but--"

"I will do what I can," said Marion.

"Then it is agreed?"

"It's agreed," stated Marion, and the two shook hands.

  


* * * * 

  
Tuck listened to the tales that Robert of Huntingdon told him in amazement, finding them difficult to believe but hard to doubt. The young man held such conviction in his voice as he spoke about his adventures in Sherwood as Robin Hood!

Robert of Huntingdon claimed he was led by a forest god named Herne in a battle between the forces of Light and Darkness, along with Lady Marion, himself, a Saracen, a giant, a vengeful bully and a miller's son. It seemed impossible.

In Tuck's opinion, Robert of Huntingdon was deranged. How else could an apparently sane man hold such loathing for the Norman lords of his own race? He accused almost every noble in the country of being corrupt! He was the son of the Earl of Huntingdon. It didn't make sense. However, what baffled Tuck more was what Robert said about Guy of Huntingdon.

Robert stated that Guy of Huntingdon was his worst enemy: a cruel, heartless knight who worked as the Sheriff of Nottingham's steward. It was ridiculous. The Sheriff practically cowered at the sight of him! Robert had even stated, though not in direct words, that Guy of Huntingdon was illegitimate. How could he be so spiteful towards his own brother? Tuck knew that Guy of Huntingdon was hardly perfect, but surely he didn't deserve this! He wondered if it was mere jealousy over a woman that caused the younger brother to be so infuriated with the older one.

Robin concluded his story and waited to see if Tuck would speak. However, the monk was too bewildered to know what to say.

"You don't believe me!" said Robin at last.

"My son..." began Tuck.

"It's true! You have to believe me, Tuck!"

"Even when you choose to speak against your own brother?" asked Tuck, a little too coldly. Robin felt his temper flare.

"I'm not speaking against him. I'm telling the truth. Guy is...Guy is my enemy. He's arrogant, cruel, deceitful--"

"'And Cain talked with Abel his brother: and it came to pass, when they were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel his brother, and slew him.'"

Robin turned his head away, exasperated. Cain and Abel was a biblical story of the jealousy between two brothers. Cain had murdered his brother when God had accepted Abel's offering and not his own. Was Tuck comparing him to the murderous brother?

"I'm not Cain," argued Robin angrily. "If anyone is, he is!"

"I didn't say that you or Guy was Cain, nor did I say you were Abel," said Tuck. "Those two brothers could have worked out their differences, but, instead, one was killed and the other made to walk to the ends of the earth in suffering. Now are you telling me that you want this to happen to you and your brother? Talk to him, Robert, before it's too late."

  


* * * * 

  
"My lady, where have you been?" said Guy, approaching the Baroness in one of the castle's corridors. "I've been searching everywhere for you."

Marion watched him, feigning a smile of delight. "My lord, I didn't know I was lost," she answered.

"Well, when you didn't return to the hall, I thought that someone should go find you."

"Are there not other ladies you should be searching for, my lord?" asked Marion boldly. But Guy wasn't one to easily blush.

"No other lady has taken the liberty of kissing my hand before," said Guy with a grin.

"Did I dishonour you, my lord?"

"Dishonour? No. But you did disappoint me."

"How did I disappoint you?"

"You left the hall before I had the chance to ask you for a dance!" he cried.

"Or kiss my hand," added Marion and she held it out before him. Guy laughed and accepted her invitation, touching the back of her hand briefly with his lips. He then laid his fingers against her cheek. He leaned forward and Marion waited for what must surely be a kiss...

"Let go of me!" screamed a voice from nearby. Guy tore himself away.

"Ignore it," stated Marion quickly, resting her hand upon Guy's shoulder. "It's probably just two of the servants, that's all."

"No, it...it sounded like my sister!"

"It couldn't have been," said Marion, fighting to keep Guy's attention, but Guy broke away and hurried down the corridor. "My lord!" Marion cried. Then she had no choice but to follow. Guy was calling out his sister's name, positive that it was her voice he had heard. He soon discovered that his suspicions were correct.

Owen of Clun, drunk and lustful, was making strong advances at Margaret, who, small and frail, had trouble fighting against them. Guy felt the fury well up in him. He saw that part of Margaret's gown was torn at the shoulder and tears flooded down her cheeks. When Margaret saw Guy she ran to him, sobbing in shame, sorrow and relief. Guy held her for a moment, then passed her gently to Marion.

Owen of Clun held the smirk of an idiot, so Guy treated him like one and pounded him in the face. Clun staggered back, but didn't fall to the ground. He straightened up and gazed at Guy stolidly, rubbing away some of the blood that dripped from his nostrils.

"It's been decided, Huntingdon," Clun slurred. "She'll soon be my bride and I can treat her as I like. And there won't be any damn brother that can stop me!"

"You filthy heathen. Do you really think I'm going to let you marry her? I wouldn't let you marry my horse!"

"You dare to insult me, Lord Owen of Clun?" Clun shouted. "Get on your knees, boy, and I'll show you what it is to be insulted!"

"Don't call me boy, you miserable dog, or I'll do more than just wipe that smirk from your face!" raged Guy.

"Is that a challenge, Huntingdon?"

"Yes, it would seem that it is!"

The men drew swords, and both women watched them in horror.

"Guy, no!" protested Margaret, as they commenced fighting. She would have run between them if Marion had not had enough sense to hold her back.

"Don't be stupid! You'll be killed!"

"We have to stop them!" cried Margaret. "We have to do something!"

"Stay here," Marion commanded firmly. "I shall get help."

"Then hurry! Please!"

Marion lifted the skirts of her silk purple gown and ran down the corridor.

The two men continued to fight, their faces gradually becoming clammy with sweat, their swords ringing in their ears. They fought on for what seemed an eternity to Margaret. Guy had the upper hand and was trying to use it to his advantage, but Owen was strong and not prepared to surrender just yet. However, as they continued, Owen's strokes became clumsier as the depths of his drunkeness became more and more apparent.

Guy's strokes remained true and his fury was unrelenting. It didn't matter how tired he got. Clun had tried to dishonour his sister and blacken the Huntingdon name. He had to pay through way of defeat, humiliation, and possibly even bloodshed: that was how enraged Guy of Huntingdon was. It proved to be his downfall.

Owen of Clun's captain, Grendel, came into the corridor in search of his master. He quickly found him with another lord he couldn't quite remember. That lord was fighting against his master. His master was in danger.

Grendel drew his own sword and approached the two lords. Guy had just disarmed Owen. He had decided, with a cooler head, that he would spare Clun if he apologized to his sister and called off the marriage. But Clun didn't know this and neither did Grendel.

Owen caught sight of his captain, with sword in hand, and his features changed from fear to surprise. Guy wheeled around and Grendel struck his sword into Guy's belly.

Margaret screamed. Guy felt sick and dizzy as the pain of his wound ripped through him. Everything started to blur around him as he fought to stay on his feet. He tried to fight it, but it overtook him and he collapsed.

Margaret fell on her knees beside him. She started to weep, calling his name softly between shattered breaths. Owen turned to Grendel furiously.

"You fool!" he spat. "That was Guy of Huntingdon, the Earl of Huntingdon's son! You've just killed the man who was to be my brother, Grendel!"

His servant turned pale and swallowed nervously. "M-my lord, how was I to know that he was the Earl of Huntingdon's son? He was trying to kill you!"

Owen growled and struck Grendel with the back of his fist. "You idiot! How am I going to explain this to the King? He and the Earl will want my head for this!"

"My lord, we must return to Clun Castle. No one can harm you there. No one will dare try. We'll take the girl. While we have her they can do nothing, master."

"Yes, Grendel, that's good. Margaret of Huntingdon will be my hostage first, then my wife! Come, girl, on your feet!" Clun grabbed Margaret and pulled her up by the wrist.

"No!" Margaret shrieked. "Don't touch me! Leave me alone, you murderer!" She struggled violently, and Clun found it was a challenge to keep her still.

Clun laughed, his teeth flashing in triumph. "Ah...what spirit, Grendel. Look at how she fights. I love her already!"

Margaret kicked and flailed her arms, bruising and scratching Clun in the process. Clun yelled then nodded to Grendel, who hit Margaret in the face. Margaret was thrown over Lord Owen of Clun's shoulder and carried off to his castle as a prisoner.

  


* * * * 

  
Marion had been stunned when she had arrived in the hall and found it filled with silence. She had gazed around in astonishment. Each and every lord and lady had been slumped forward at their tables or stretched out on the floor. They had been sleeping so soundly, that they appeared to be dead. Marion had tried frantically to rouse a few of these nobles, but whatever enchantment they were under would not wear away.

She had run down to the barracks, attempting to find a soldier that could help her. But everything had been the same. There wasn't a single guard or soldier who was awake.

She couldn't understand this. Was Azael testing her in some way she couldn't fathom? Why would Azael risk Guy of Huntingdon's life to do it? He was too important to the Lords of Darkness. They wouldn't want him to die.

Marion kept running. There had to be someone in Nottingham Castle who could help her end the fight. Then she remembered Guy's younger brother. What was his name...? Robert. Yes, that was it. She would find Robert. He would stop the fight.

She scoured the castle, determined to find Robert of Huntingdon. It was by chance that she bumped into him as he was heading for the stables with Tuck. Robin had again decided that he would go to Sherwood, but had found that he was unable to go alone. Tuck had refused to let him go there at night, unaccompanied.

Robin was very surprised to see Marion once more and wondered, with a faint heart, if she had been trying to find him. He decided that it was Guy she was pursuing. He stood passively, waiting for the blow she was surely going to deliver. She did deliver a blow, but it wasn't the kind he was expecting.

"Robert, you must come at once!" Marion exclaimed breathlessly. "Your brother and Owen of Clun are fighting!"

"What? Where are they?" demanded Robin.

"Come with me. I'll take you to them."

The three rushed to the corridor where the battle had taken place. They froze. Guy of Huntingdon lay motionless on the ground.

"Guy!" cried Robin, kneeling quickly beside him. Guy groaned and Robin lifted him gently by the shoulders. "Guy, can you hear me? What happened?"

Guy opened his eyes. The lids fluttered weakly. "He's taken her, Robert," he gasped. "You...you must save her."

"What do you mean? I don't understand."

"Clun has...Clun has taken our sister...You have to save her, Robert...before it's too late..."

"Guy..."

Guy's head fell back and his body went limp in Robin's arms.

Marion felt for a pulse along Guy's neck. Her eyes widened in terror. "He's dead!"

"Dead?"

Guy was dead. His brother was dead. Robin felt a kind of numbness fall over him as he lowered Guy's lifeless body to the ground. Robin had fought him for so long and now Guy was dead. It didn't seem real. He had never expected this to happen. Was he supposed to be happy about his enemy's demise, or grief-stricken by his brother's death?

There was nothing but the slight tightening of his throat and the heaviness of his limbs as he rose to his feet.

Tuck was praying over Guy's body, but Marion just stared at it blankly. Robin walked away slowly. He headed for the stables to find his horse.

Tuck soon ceased his prayers, lifted his head, and followed. He believed that he could now do more for the living brother than the dead one.

Marion remained where she was, oblivious to everything except the despair she felt over Guy of Huntingdon's death. What was she to do now that he was gone? What would happen to her plans? What would happen now that she had failed Azael?

Marion heard the sound of footfalls behind her. Without looking, she knew who it was. "You said you would help me," she said quietly. "You have betrayed me."

Gulnar stood over Marion and Guy, gazing down at the latter's corpse in morbid fascination.

"Why didn't you stop your master from killing him?" Marion asked. Then it dawned on her. Gulnar was the one who had concocted the spell to make everyone in the castle sleep. He had purposely wrecked her plans.

"Why did you do it?" Marion hissed. "We had an agreement! Now he's dead and I'm likely to follow! You've ruined everything, Gulnar!"

The sorcerer started to laugh, and Marion stood up to slap him. Gulnar grasped her arm before she could do so and held it tightly like a vice.

"Do you not think I can bring him back from the dead? Do you not think I can make his heart beat again and his breath quicken? Do you doubt my powers, Marion? Your own husband created a circle of power to protect himself from death. He lays there now, waiting...waiting for the Arrow."

"The Silver Arrow?" said Marion. "He was a fool. It doesn't exist anymore. It may never have existed at all."

"Are you certain? Wasn't Herne's son supposed to guard it?"

"You mean that outlaw, Robin Hood? I don't think he's even seen it."

Gulnar grinned. "What would you say if I told you that he had and that it truly did exist? Would you believe me?"

Marion didn't answer.

"Herne kept it hidden for years, so that no one would ever find it again. But I knew where it was and it was on this day that I came to find it!"

Marion gasped as silver flashed before her eyes. Gulnar was holding the Arrow.

"I stole it from Herne," Gulner said. "I took it from right under him and he didn't notice. Herne's son did nothing. He didn't know. I took it because I knew we would need it tonight."

Marion shuddered. "You mean that...But we can't...It's impossible!"

"Oh, but it will be, Marion. We must go quickly. The Sheriff and his guests will soon be awake. I have told your servants to prepare a cart in which to carry his body."

"But where are we going?"

"To Belleme Castle where, with the sun, this man shall rise again!"

  


* * * * 

  


** Chapter Four **

  
For once, Sherwood seemed to be a rather mysterious and frightening place to Robin, as he and Tuck passed through the forest in the moonlight. Perhaps he felt this way because it was late and he was tired. Maybe all of the events of the evening had had more of an affect on him than he had first realized.

He thought he saw objects that weren't really there, as trees took the form of monstrous figures and shadows clawed with menace from their wake. The eery echo of a lychfowl reverberated through the forest with fearful clarity. As Robin passed a glance to Tuck, he saw that the monk's eyes were wide and that he trembled almost visibly in fear. Tuck had obviously heard the tales that had been told about the ghosts and spirits of Sherwood as well.

Robin had never believed in them himself, but, at the moment, he couldn't help wondering if the sounds made by the various creatures of the night weren't some signal to mortals from the dead...Robin quickly shook this ridiculous thought from his head. He scolded himself for allowing his imagination to run rampant like that and for thinking that Tuck could believe in such stories. Surely, even Tuck wasn't that superstitious...or was he?

A twig snapped and Tuck halted his horse, staring wildly around him. Robin stopped as well, but only with the intention of explaining to Tuck that there was nothing to fear, that the twig had probably been broken by a small bird or animal. However, Robin soon found that Tuck's fears were justified as a man stepped quietly on to the road, his figure only a silhouette against the faint light of the moon.

There was the soft and deadly sound of metal sliding from a scabbard. The stranger had drawn his sword. "Your money," the stranger said, edging closer to them, "or your life." He eyed the young noble on the grey horse in defiance, but Robin only smiled. Some light had fallen on the stranger's face. Beneath the hint of an unshaven cheek and tousled unkempt hair, lay fierce and aggressive eyes.

Robin knew who it was. It was Will Scarlet.

  


* * * * 

  
The cart wheeled into the courtyard, dwarfed by the oppressive vision of Belleme Castle. The cart rattled over rough cold stones, its still passenger jolting momentarily as if possessing life once more. Marion gazed long and hard at it, as if to ensure that it didn't but wishing that it did.

The cart stopped and John and Nasir were soon lifting Guy's bloody corpse from it, following their mistress' instructions and carrying it straight into the castle. Marion glanced anxiously at Gulnar, who only leered at her unpleasantly. She shivered. It was a cold night to be about in, a cold night to be waking the dead.

A sharp wind blew and, even in the darkness, Marion could see it was the young witch, Lilith, who walked on its tail. Lilith, who had once been servant to her husband, Simon de Belleme, and one with the Lords of Darkness. No night was ever too cold for Lilith, thought Marion grimly, watching Lilith approach their small party of horses with the utmost confidence. Oh, yes, she Lilith the true Powers of Darkness as an enchantress and disciple of the Dark path.

Marion envied her her powers and the weight she seemed to wield with the Lords of Darkness. However, they had chosen her, Marion, to lead them in their present quest, not Lilith. Or had they? Was there a look of smugness in those flaming dark eyes and the slight upward tilt of Lilith's chin? Had they chosen this woman to take her place?

Marion's eyes were ice to smoulder the burning coals, but the fire kept burning as Lilith returned the waves of repugnance, intensifying them with her own fiery resolve.

Lilith had never liked Marion, nor had she trusted her. She had always hated her for marrying the Baron and living so near him as his wife: a title that Lilith had sought and craved for herself but had failed to attain. She loathed Marion because she feared that the Lords of Darkness and Azael favoured her for her greater beauty, intelligence and inner strength. And now Marion sat like some goddess upon her horse, making her, Lilith, feel more mortal than she wanted to be. However, Marion didn't feel much like a goddess. She glared down at the cloaked woman in front of her with pure animosity.

"What are you doing here?" Marion demanded angrily. "I told you never to come here again."

"I was summoned here," responded Lilith heatedly. "Here, Baroness. Is this not your hand?" She reached into her cloak and removed a scrap of parchment, waving it like a challenge before her mistress. Marion snatched the parchment, trying to read its dark curly scratches in the moonlight.

"This is not my hand," Marion said at last.

"Then who sent it to me, my lady?" asked Lilith innocently, passing a silent glance to Gulnar, knowing full well who had sent the letter.

"You!" cried Marion, catching the meaning behind Lilith's look. "What right had you to summon one of my servants?"

"Every right, Marion," answered Gulnar softly. "We cannot bring him back without her."

"Bring him back?" said Lilith. Then the fire behind her eyes grew brighter. "We're bringing _him_ back?"

"No," replied Marion, knowing that Lilith meant the Baron. "Not yet." Lilith frowned, her pretty mouth pouting angrily. "We are bringing back Guy of Huntingdon. He was killed tonight."

"Guy of Huntingdon!" snapped Lilith. "Who is that?"

"He is the Earl of Huntingdon's son," said Marion.

"And his heir," added Gulnar, a faint glimmer of greediness dancing in his eyes.

"So?" demanded Lilith. "Why should you wish to save him and not your own husband? How can you even hope to save him without the Silver Arrow?"

"We have the Silver Arrow!" said Marion. "Do you really think I would have suggested such a plan without it? And, as for Guy of Huntingdon, that is no business of yours! You are my servant and the servant of Azael and the Lords of Darkness. All you have to know is that they have commanded this to be done and, so, you will do it without question. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Baroness," hissed Lilith, with pure venom, "I understand."

"Good," said Marion, shivering again. "Let's go inside. The sooner we begin all of this, the better."

  


* * * * 

  
The pause between the three men seemed to span centuries. It was only when Robin's smile diminished and he spoke the outlaw's name that the silence was broken.

"Scarlet. Will Scarlet."

"You know me then, do you?" asked Will, with just the slightest tinge of pride and satisfaction in his voice.

"Aye, we know you," answered Tuck, more than a little coldly. Robin stared at Tuck, surprised to see him look almost as angry as he was afraid.

"Don't worry, brother," hissed Will. "I don't kill monks or priests but," he added, approaching Robin, "I have nothing against killing Norman swine."

"No!" cried Tuck. "He's the Earl of Huntingdon's son!"

"Is he?" growled Will. "Well, that's too bad, ain't it? Too bad for him, anyway." He moved a step closer, and Robin's sword flew out of its  
scabbard to meet him."

"Nice sword," commented Will. "Do you need someone to teach you how to use it?"

Robin dismounted, facing Will at his own level.

"My lord, don't do it!" protested Tuck. "He's one of the most dangerous cutthroats in Sherwood!"

"Yeah," piped up Will, "and I've fought and killed better men than you."

"I don't want to fight, Will," said Robin. "I only wish to talk."

"Talk? About what? What is it with you? Are you afraid to fight or something?"

But Robin paid no attention to Will's attempt at an insult. "Aren't you a member of Robin of Loxley's band?" he asked casually, trying to discover as best he could what had happened to his friend.

"What? You mean Robin Hood?" Will started to laugh. "You must be joking!"

"Why?"

"Because he's a fool," said Will. "He and his men are absolutely useless. They can't fight. They couldn't even rob an old man if their life depended on it. Believe me, I've seen them try! Why do you want to know about him, anyway?"

"I need his help," stated Robin, causing Will to sputter with laughter again. "I need help from you both."

"My help?" drawled Will. "Now why should I want to help you?"

"Because I'm leaving you no choice," replied Robin calmly. He flew at Will, provoking an attack with his sword almost before the outlaw had time to defend himself. He then took another swipe, but Will blocked the blow effectively. Robin withdrew, waiting to see what kind of effect he had had on Will. It wasn't a good one.

"Who do you think you are waving your fancy sword at me?" shouted Will. "You don't know how to fight. You don't know nothing! You think this is a game, but I fight to survive. I've seen your kind hunting in the forest, destroying everything in their path. And the soldiers burning down villages, killing innocent people--"

"Then why don't you do something about it, Will?" demanded Robin. "Why do you rob the rich if you're only keeping the money for yourself? Why not join others and help the poor? Why do you fight alone?"

"My lord--" gasped Tuck, trying to issue another warning.

"How-how dare you?" said Will in a deadly rasp. "You know nothing about it! It was Norman bastards like you who ruined me! And you come here telling me...telling _me_ that I should do something about it?"

"Yes," answered Robin, who still remained completely calm, "I do. So what are you going to do about it, Will?"

"I'm-I'm going to kill you! That's what I'm going to do!" thundered Will, lunging forward with his sword.

  


* * * * 

  
"The circle is ready, my lady," said Lilith to her mistress. "Gulnar and I have prepared it."

"Then bring his body forward," instructed the Baroness to two cowering servants, who were terrified of the magical symbols and concentric circles painted on the floor. There were also the black candles surrounding the circle, marking each direction like the positions on a sundial, and the quiet mutterings and incantations being delivered by the witch and the sorcerer. But they were more terrified by what fate they might incur if they disobeyed their mistress' orders, so they brought Guy's body forward.

"Careful!" hissed Lilith, as one of the servants almost knocked over a candle. It was a wonder Guy's body made it to the ground without falling, the servants were shaking so much. However, Marion had some sympathy for their fears. She dismissed them quickly, her eyes following them as they left the crypt. Then they fell on Gulnar, who was hovering outside the circle, fingering what appeared to be a narrow piece of parchment in his bony hands. Marion looked closer, trying to decipher the runes written upon it. She blinked. Was it her imagination, or were the runes forged in blood...?

Gulnar turned to her and Marion could no longer see any sign of the unusual parchment. He observed her confused stare, but only smiled, moving closer to the circle of power again.

"Should I light the candles, Baroness?" asked Lilith, who suddenly stood before Marion, distracting her attention from Gulnar for a few seconds.

"Yes, Lilith. As soon as you are ready."

"I am ready now, my lady," answered the witch. With one last toss of her head towards the Baron's stone coffin, she lifted a torch from a bracket on the wall and walked over to the circle.

Gulnar, who had been leaning over the body with almost bulging eyes, quickly stood and moved to the outside of the circle, giving Lilith room to light the candles.

The Silver Arrow was lying on the ground. The witch lifted it carefully, grasping it firmly in both hands. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she saw nothing but the body as she concentrated deeply. Then, her lips parted. A whisper as soft as the wind escaped from them.

"I conjure thee by the Lords of Darkness, by the shield of Solomon and by the power of Herne's arrow. Venite! Venite!"

In the frozen stillness of the crypt, and the quiet rumblings of the ancient magical power, Lilith took the Silver Arrow and placed it in Guy's lifeless hands.

"Palas aron azinomas!" cried Lilith.

The hands twitched. Suddenly, Guy's eyes fluttered open. Lilith turned pale and stared at him, unable to move a muscle. Marion could only manage a faint and almost inaudible gasp. However, Gulnar stood and grinned, a quiet but menacing laugh escaping from him. The Silver Arrow slipped from Guy's hands, forgotten. Guy rose slowly to his feet. Then, to Marion's astonishment, he coughed and spit out the piece of parchment that Gulnar had made. Now _how_ had that ended up there, thought Marion fretfully.

Guy seemed to wonder the same thing. His forehead crinkled as he studied the group with blank and confused eyes. Finally, he tore his eyes away and looked down at the dark patch of blood that had soaked through his tunic.

Guy leapt back violently, knocking over two of the candles. When he lifted his eyes again, Marion was shocked to see that he was shaking his head and that his whole body seemed to tremble. Words tried to leave his lips, but he couldn't seem to push them out of his mouth. Marion stepped forward, which only caused Guy to move further back.

"Marion?" Guy managed to utter.

"Yes," said Marion gently, laying a hand upon Guy's shoulder. If it had been a branding iron, Guy wouldn't have given so passionate a start. "My lord of Huntingdon, calm yourself. We won't harm you."

"My lord of _Huntingdon_? What...what are you talking about?"

"My lord?"

"What-what's going on?" Guy demanded. "Where am I? What is this place?"

"You're at Belleme Castle, my lord," explained Marion.

"What?" gasped Guy. "No, no, it can't be! We...I can't be here...Not here..."

"But this is Belleme Castle," said Marion, watching as Guy gazed wildly at his surroundings. What was wrong with him? He acted as if the place was full of ghosts. Then, Marion remembered that it was. Hadn't they just brought this man back from the dead?

"My lord, you're shaking!" exclaimed Marion. "What's the matter?"

Guy's eyes had stopped their frantic search of the crypt and had rested upon the bald bony man in front of him. "He's...You're...But you're supposed to be dead!" Guy cried.

"What?" said Marion, but Gulnar only stood where he was, smiling serenely.

"Am I?" asked Gulnar, possessing all of the innocence of a child. "Perhaps, my lord, you should take a closer look at yourself."

It slowly dawned on Guy that maybe the sorcerer's suggestion was wise. He stared down at his tunic again, his hands reaching gingerly upwards to feel his neck and the head it was attached to, almost as if fearing that he had lost it.

"Am I dead?" Guy dared to ask.

"No, my lord," said Marion sweetly. "We saved you."

"Saved me?" whispered Guy.

"We brought you back."

"Back?"

"From the dead..." drawled Gulnar dramatically.

"From where?" cried Guy. "What-what do you mean _the dead_?"

"It's true, my lord," said Marion, in such an earnest tone that Guy found it hard not to believe her, but he shook his head, unwilling to accept her story. He tried to move away from them, but found he was trapped, that he had backed himself up against a wall.

"Th-th-this isn't funny!" Guy stammered. "How did I really get here? What's going on?"

"We brought you here, Guy, and, then, together we brought you back from the dead." Marion took a step towards Guy, but he pushed her back roughly.

"Keep-keep away from me!" barked Guy. "You're all mad!"

"But my lord--"

"Why do you keep calling me that? You never call me that! What kind of devilry is this?"

"Devilry?" said Marion. "I'm afraid I don't understand, my lord." She hoped that Guy hadn't somehow discovered the truth about her plans. She didn't know what she would do if he found out about Azael and the Lords of Darkness before she had prepared him for it. Why, even now he was watching her, his eyes colder that she'd ever remembered seeing them before.

"Don't lie to me, Marion. He's a part of this, isn't he? That's why you're here."

"He?"

"That wolfshead!" said Guy. "He's behind this, isn't he?"

"Wolfshead? What wolfshead?" asked Marion indignantly.

"Why, Robin Hood of course! Who else would do this to me? Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about! You know all about it...Lady Wolfshead!"

"Lady who?" gasped Marion. She turned furiously to Gulnar, whose laughter had reached its highest crescendo. "What have you done to him?" she shouted.

  


* * * * 

  
Will's sword was wrenched from his hand for the third time. He growled in anger as Robin graciously took his own sword and pushed the weapon back to him. Robin had hoped that the fight might wear Will down enough for them to talk, but the fact that Will was losing this duel only seemed to infuriate him further.

Robin sidestepped quickly as Will took another leap towards him, trying to suppress a laugh as his opponent lost his balance and tumbled to the ground.

"You're out of practice, Will," stated Robin, crouching down to Will's level to offer him a hand. Will only stared at it, grumbling some kind of curse. Then, after a moment or two of hesitation over whether he should take it or not, a smile spread slowly across Will's lips. Before Robin realized the true intent of that smile, Will had tightly gripped his hand and Robin had been thrown against the ground.

"You were saying?" taunted Will, as Robin fought to get his breath back. "You shouldn't have let up your guard," he continued, as Robin struggled furiously beneath him. Will lifted his sword, and Robin waited for the deadly stroke that was to come. However, both Robin and Will had forgotten about Tuck, who had slipped silently from his horse to pick up a log and...

Will fell forward with a groan, his sword barely missing Robin's left ear. Robin rolled Will's prone body away and sat up.

"Good timing," said Robin, accepting Tuck's assistance from the ground.

"Are you still going to try to convince him to help you?" asked Tuck.

Robin looked down at his fallen friend and current adversary, wishing he could have influenced him to change his mind. Will was a valuable companion and ally, and Robin badly needed both. But he couldn't afford to get himself half-killed in the process. No, unfortunately, Will was a lost cause.

Robin motioned to Tuck. They moved Will's body off the road and into some bushes before riding on.

  


* * * * 

  
Guy of Gisburne watched his enemies argue heatedly, dazed and confused about what was going on. There were so many questions filling his head, but none of these questions were being answered because he was being ignored. He hated that.

Why had they brought him here? Was he their prisoner? Who was behind all of this? Gulnar or that wolfshead? Was this another mad plan involving that wolf demon, Fenris, or a plot of revenge hatched by Robin Hood and the outlaws? If it was the latter then why was only Marion here and not the others? And what could they possibly gain by capturing him? For that matter, _how_ had they captured him? The last thing he could remember was placing his head down on the execution block.

Despite the jumbled array of images he last remembered in a mind edged with fear, he could swear that he had heard Brewer give the order to kill him. He even thought that he could remember the icy chill of the executioner's axe as it swung down. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled at the memory of it.

"I demand to know what's going on here?" he stated furiously, interrupting his enemies' angry exchange. "What's happening? Why have I been brought here? Where is that wolfshead, Marion? If I don't start getting some answers quickly, I shall have no choice but to force them from you! So are you going to tell me what's happening or not?"

Marion froze, becoming increasingly alarmed at the whole change in Guy's voice and manner. "What have you done to him?" she asked again, this time speaking only in a sharp whisper.

"My lady, I swear that I did nothing more than what you bid me to do," answered Lilith, who was beginning to feel a little anxious about all of this. "If you should question anyone, it should be him," she added, waving a hand at Gulnar.

"Well?" demanded Marion.

"I don't care whose fault it is!" shouted Gisburne before the sorcerer could answer. "I don't even know what you're talking about!"

"My lord, you should rest," Marion said wearily.

"Rest? How am I supposed to rest around here? You only want me to rest so you can kill me!"

"Kill you? I've risked everything tonight trying to _save_ you!"

"Save me? For almost as long as I've known you, you and those wolfsheads have been trying to kill me!"

"But I only met you tonight!"

"You're possessed if you think that, Marion. We've been enemies for years."

"But that's ridiculous, my lord. Why would I be your enemy?"

"Because you're a wolfshead!"

"I am _not_ a wolfshead," said Marion firmly. "I am Marion, Baroness de Belleme."

"And I'm Queen Guinevere," commented Gisburne in such a sarcastic tone that Lilith couldn't help giggling.

"Shall I fetch him a dress?" she joked.

"Get out!" screamed Marion, her cheeks flushing almost as brightly as her hair.

"Yes, my lady," murmured Lilith, who actually blanched. She and Gulnar quickly backed out of the crypt, leaving the Baroness and Gisburne alone.

Gisburne stared at Marion, completely taken aback. He had never seen her look that angry before. Someone must have possessed her and that someone must have been Gulnar. Yes, Gulnar could possess anyone, reasoned Gisburne, remembering his own frightening experience with the sorcerer.

Gulnar had possessed Marion and, for some reason, wanted her to believe that she was Simon de Belleme's wife. Maybe it was a part of Gulnar's spell over her. His enchantment over Marion was why she was acting so strangely. It was why she seemed to insist that he was this Guy of Huntingdon.

Well, she could shout as much as she wanted. Gisburne knew how to shout too. He could shout louder than anyone he knew. However, Marion didn't shout anymore. When she finally did speak to him, her tone was calm and quiet again.

"My lord," said Marion gently, gracing Gisburne with her kindest smile, "I don't wish to harm you. I only wish to help. Do you believe me when I tell you this?"

Did he? He couldn't trust her if his life depended on it! And, unfortunately, by the look of things, it did.

"My lord, something is troubling you. It would help if you spoke about it. You might feel better if you do." Marion looked at Gisburne hopefully, but Gisburne was barely listening.

What was he going to do? He had to get out of Belleme Castle - that was what he had to do! But where could he go? If he went to Nottingham Castle, the Sheriff would personally see to it that his head was put back on the block. If he went anywhere else, the Sheriff might still see to it that he was arrested and executed.

"I'm going," stated Guy, deciding that the risk he was taking was worth it. Anything was better than being stuck in Belleme Castle with a possessed woman and a sorcerer! He pushed his way past Marion, but she didn't appear to be too happy about this. Her hand latched on to his arm.

"I said, I'm going," repeated Gisburne coldly.

"But, my lord, you can't leave," said Marion, gripping Gisburne's arm even tighter.

"And why not?" asked Guy, trying to keep his temper long enough not to explode.

"You're still not well enough. You should--"

"I'm fine!" snarled Gisburne. "Marion, let go of me!"

"All right," replied Marion hastily, watching nervously as Gisburne's mood became darker and darker still. "Yes, all right." She slowly released his arm.

Gisburne managed a very thin smile. "Good. I'm glad you've been taught to obey something." He started to walk away, but then gave another growl of anger as Marion's hand fell on his arm again. "WHAT?" he shouted.

"You may go anywhere you wish, my lord, but I'm coming with you," said Marion.

Gisburne shook his head vehemently. "No, you'll stay here!" he ordered in his best military style of command. Marion ignored him.

"You're going to Sherwood, aren't you?" asked Marion.

"Sherwood? Now why would I do that?"

"You keep talking of Sherwood, Robin Hood and outlaws. You even accused me of being one! Is that where you wish to go, my lord?"

"I don't care about that wolfshead! I have enough to worry about without getting mixed up with him!"

"Then where is it you wish to go?"

Gisburne hesitated then threw up his hands in despair. "I don't know." He pulled away from his adversary, sliding down to the ground. Marion sat down beside Gisburne, watching him with a puzzled glance as he placed his head in his hands. "Leave me alone," Gisburne growled, sensing that she was staring at him.

"But you do want to go to Sherwood, don't you?" Marion persisted, unwilling to give up just yet. "If we went to Sherwood, I could prove to you that I'm not an outlaw. Then, you would trust me."

"Ha!" came the muffled reply through Gisburne's hands. "Trust you?"

"But if we went to Sherwood, we could rid Nottingham of this wolfshead once and for all!" cried Marion enthusiastically.

Gisburne shook his head. She had gone mad. She had truly gone mad. "No," he began. "I..." Then he hesitated, wondering if maybe her idea wasn't such a bad one after all. He would have Marion with him, who had proved to be a valuable bargaining piece in the past. It wouldn't matter to that wolfshead if she were possessed or mad. The miserable fool loved her. He would do almost anything to save her, even, and Gisburne had to smile at this, throw his own life away to preserve her.

With Marion as a hostage, Robin Hood would have to surrender himself to Gisburne. Then Gisburne could deliver the outlaw to the King and be pardoned. Yes, and perhaps he would even be the next High Sheriff of Nottingham. Once he had won the King's favour with Robin Hood's capture, Robert de Rainault would be the one with his head on the block!

"Are we going to Sherwood then?" asked Marion, almost as if reading Gisburne's thoughts.

"Yes, yes, all right!" Gisburne snapped. "We'll go to Sherwood!" _God's Teeth, she's as stubborn as a mule_, he thought, remembering the words the Sheriff had once used to describe her. _And she's as stupid as one too_, he mused pleasantly, as they both rose and headed out of the castle.

  


* * * * 

  


** Chapter Five **

  
Loxley sat silently, watching the fire glow against the darkness of the night. His companions slept peacefully around him. He had tried to sleep, but found that it was impossible. The words he had shared with Herne were still etched deeply in his mind.

_"But I am your son," Loxley had said._

_"There is another."_

_"Another?"_

_"Yes. He will come to the forest to be my son and do my bidding and he will lead you until the Wheel turns again. When he comes, you will know and understand his power and you shall bring him to me." _

Another son. No matter how hard Loxley stared into the thin orange and yellow flames, he couldn't forget the words. As he watched the fire hungrily devour twigs and branches, he could feel a painful emptiness inside him. It was as if the flames were devouring his heart as well.

He had failed Herne. That was why Herne needed another son.

He wondered if the powers of Light and Darkness had ever truly been with him, or if it had all been a mistake. Had everything they had done been for nothing? Was their quest to help the poor and oppressed nothing but a farce? The people of Nottingham seemed to think so; there was laughter heard whenever someone spoke his name.

Herne seemed to think so, for there was the prophecy he had given.

Loxley had promised to follow Herne's wishes, although he had been unwilling to relinquish his title.

Herne was his master. Loxley had sworn to obey him. However, as Loxley looked down at his sleeping friends, he couldn't help wondering how much longer that would last.

He rose, suddenly feeling cold despite the warmth of the fire. He wrapped his blanket of fur around himself tightly and decided that he would try to get some sleep. After all, he and the others were planning a raid tomorrow. If they were to have any chance of succeeding, they would need all the sleep they could get. It was hard enough for them to rob anyone when they were awake! Loxley sighed. No wonder the people of Nottingham laughed. He sometimes felt halfway between laughing and crying himself.

He was about to kneel down to extinguish the fire, believing there was no point in keeping flames that provided no warmth, when he turned, sensing something other than trees behind him.

"Robin," said a voice, and a young man stepped forward.

Loxley studied the face, trying to remember where he had seen it before. The man's fair golden hair was tinged red like the flames of the fire, his pale blue eyes sparkling from some strong source of energy that came from within. Loxley saw the hope and strength he had been missing, the young man's smile yielding the confidence he could never acquire. And there wasn't just confidence in that smile, but warmth of spirit as well.

"You're the one," stated Loxley.

"The one?"

"My successor...Herne's son."

"I..." began the other man, hesitating. But then he grasped at his courage and looked Loxley straight in the eyes.

"Yes," he replied. "I'm Herne's son."

"Come with me," said Loxley.

  


* * * * 

  
Robin allowed Loxley to lead him to Herne's cave, although he knew that he could probably guide himself blind which, at night, was what he virtually was. But he and Loxley both knew and understood the forest better than anyone and the steps they took were sure.

How many times had Loxley travelled through the huge and towering trees of the forest, or across the dark still waters of the lake to meet the forest god? How many times had Loxley heard him speak the words of a prophecy, the words of a riddle he could not understand? How many quests had Loxley set out on, carrying the powers of Light and Darkness on his shoulders? For that matter, wondered Robin, how many times had he done all of these things himself?

_He's so young_, thought Robin. He had momentarily forgotten that Loxley was about the same age as he was, if not older. However, he could still hear Loxley questioning his own competence and abilities and whether his strength and courage as a leader had been true. Had he truly earned the right to be Herne's son? Was this right about to be taken away, along with his title?

Robin could understand Loxley's concerns perfectly. He had felt them himself many times. Robin knew that if he ever returned to his proper time, he would probably experience these same concerns again. _If_ he ever managed to return again...

"We're almost there," said the present Robin Hood, breaking through his companion's thoughts. "See there? Through that tree? That's Herne's cave."

"Yes, I see it. I think I can find my way from here. Thank you."

Loxley gave a brief nod, his eyes wild and lost for a moment. Then he turned away and was gone, disappearing quickly into the night.

_I will not steal this from him_, vowed Robin. _No matter what happens, he is still Herne's son; he is still Robin Hood._

  


* * * * 

  
Robin listened to the echo of his footfalls as he made his way down the dark passage. Light flickered in the distance. Robin was certain that its source had to be the Sacred Fire.

Herne would be there waiting for him, but would this be the same Herne he had come to know? Robin entered the cave, deciding that it was time to find out. However, Robin paused at the entrance, watching Herne's shadow as it cast itself, huge against the cold damp wall. Then Robin gathered up his courage again and walked forward to greet the man in front of him. They eyed one another for a moment, and then Herne's strong hands clasped Robin by the shoulders.

"Good," said Herne. "You have come. We must act quickly, Robin. The Wheel will soon turn again. You must be prepared."

Robin released the breath he had been holding, vastly relieved to see that at least Herne hadn't changed with the Wheel's turning.

"What happened, Herne?" asked Robin. "Why is everything so different now? I only wanted to save the people of Wickham from dying, not change time altogether."

Herne smiled, but it was with a sense of forlornness. "You ask questions that require too many answers. Come." They moved closer to the fire. "Take the cup and drink." Robin took the chalice from the stone altar in front of him and sipped from it, prepared for the strange burning sensation of the drug as it spread through him. He then braced himself and made ready to look into the fire. But Herne stopped him.

"The answers you seek will not be found in the flame's light. See the pool of water lying on the altar?" asked Herne. Robin nodded, taking in the plain wooden bowl. "It is there that you will find your answers. It is there that you will see the reflection of yourself and the flame's light. The Sacred Fire holds knowledge of the past, as well as the future. The true time will be a reflection of this one. The knowledge of the Sacred Fire will guide you.

"Draw your eyes upon the water. Focus your thoughts to the time that existed before the Wheel turned and what should have been this time, but was not. Let your thoughts fly free and unfettered! Let your mind travel on the ripples of the water and carry you where you must go..."

Robin allowed himself to be drawn and then transported by the ripples. The simple wooden bowl seemed to grow ten times larger. Robin could see his face turn ugly and grotesque as it was reflected in the huge circle in front of him. It shimmered for a moment then slowly disappeared under the smooth darkness of the water. The bright yellow flames of the Sacred Fire rose to replace it. The flames were all he could see. They filled his entire vision until the gentle flow of the water returned again and the flames were calm. Then, it was as Herne had said. Robin let his thoughts float on top of the water, the slow ripples flowing deeper and deeper into his mind.

From the depths of the water, an image began to form. It took Robin several seconds to discern what it was. Then, he saw the trees of a forest and a boy holding a bow at his side. It was Much: a younger Much, in fact, and the forest he was in was Sherwood. Much raised the bow, taking an arrow from his quiver and releasing it. It struck a deer.

The deer's wide terrified eyes were all Robin could see for a few seconds, before the image was washed away by the water. The deer's eyes became Robin of Loxley's eyes as he looked at the slain animal. Next, Robin could see Loxley walking angrily to some bushes to haul out the frightened boy. They were arguing as Robin hoisted the body of the deer over his shoulders and searched for a place to hide it...

The vision faded and Robin almost gasped as he gazed into the cold unfeeling eyes of Guy of Gisburne. The knight was with a small party of soldiers. Gisburne's horse moved and the soldiers were thundering down a hill and into the glade below...

The vision of the horses racing past dissolved and melted away, and Loxley and Much were running frantically from the soldiers. They were soon surrounded on all sides, a triumphant Gisburne gloating down at them from his mount...

Everything was replaced by darkness. Loxley and Much were in the dungeon at Nottingham Castle. A figure stepped into the light. It was Scarlet, accompanied by two other men. One by one their hands fell on top of Loxley's. Their eager faces peered through the grime of the dungeon, out of the grille and into the light...

Loxley and his friends were flooding into the courtyard, soldiers running to attack them. They fought off the ones they could and ran towards the portcullis, everyone escaping but Loxley...

Gisburne was chasing his quarry, his sword waving in his hand. Loxly ran back into the castle...

The stone walls forming the outside of the castle transformed into the inner walls of a chamber. Loxley was staring at a startled girl. She looked as boldly as she could at the intruder. Marion...

Her deep hazel eyes turned into pools of water that merged into the vision of a pond. Beside the pond was a mill. It was the mill Much's father had once owned...

Gisburne was there questioning the miller. The men were arguing. Gisburne's sword was out and, in an instant, the man was dead...

Blood seemed to pass across the water in the bowl. It blocked out everything until Robin could see the vision of Much sobbing in the trees. Then, a shield of mist covered the images Robin had seen. Robin felt himself being slowly released from the strong pull of the water and the hold of the Sacred Fire. He found himself looking into the same wooden bowl he had started with. Shocked, he realized that the reflection staring back at him wasn't his own.

Robin gave a start and backed away from the altar.

"What did you see?" questioned Herne, taking Robin by the shoulders again.

"At first, I thought it was me, but when I looked closer...I don't know who it was...It should have been me, but it wasn't..."

"You will find out soon enough," said Herne. "Rest now and return here by nightfall. Go now and Blessed Be."

Robin did not argue with Herne or insist on staying. His head ached and he suddenly felt exhausted. He was also frustrated that his visions had ended before he had learned more, not that he had understood what he _had_ seen.

  


* * * * 

  
He walked down the long passage leading out of Herne's cave feeling much less confident than when he had gone in. When he finally made it out of the cave, he was so dazed by all that he had seen that he hardly saw Loxley, who had stepped out from the dark shadow of an oak tree to escort him back to the camp. Somehow, Robin managed to fall into step with Loxley, who wisely kept silent as they travelled, knowing that his companion probably had much to think about after his meeting with Herne. Loxley knew he always did, so he made no attempt at conversation, allowing this stranger to think things through for himself.

Robin had realized soon enough that the scattered images had been a part of the past - the proper past - and that they held some significance. Robin thought back to the set of visions he had seen, trying to decipher what their meaning could be, but the fragments he did remember seemed to offer him no answer. The harder he thought about them, the more confused he became.

Finally, he gave up the effort and focused his mind back on the present where he was walking through Sherwood with Loxley. They had almost reached the camp. Robin peered through the trees and into the sky. He was surprised to notice that the sun had begun to rise. With all of the thoughts running through his head, he hadn't even noticed the amount of time that had passed. However, as he and Loxley entered the camp, it was apparent that Robin Hood's companions were well aware of it.

They had already awoken and were stirring about the camp, waiting for their leader's return, though none of them seemed very anxious about Loxley's disappearance during the night. They greeted Loxley almost casually, as if they were accustomed to him leaving the camp without notice. But, then, with a leader who was Herne's son, they should have quickly become used to it. Nevertheless, they did study the stranger to their camp with questioning eyes. Robin looked down, remembering the fancy clothes he was still wearing from the feast. He wished he had taken the time to change.

Loxley invited him to sit among them, but made no attempt at introductions for either his men or Robin. The outlaws' glances were rather hostile and defensive, yet frightened and curious at the same time. Robin met their eyes without expression. He knew from both instinct and experience that smiling might cause anger, and any toughness or aggression on his part would only provoke a fight. No words were spoken for a time by either side.

The silence was only broken when Loxley passed his guest the communal wooden cup the outlaws were accustomed to sharing. He offered Robin a sip of water: a sign to the others that their leader welcomed the stranger to their camp.

The outlaws relaxed and one or two quiet conversations broke out while Robin drank from the cup. Above the quiet hum of talking, Loxley asked where Much was and Robin realized that Much hadn't been at the camp to greet them.

"Went back to the mill to see his father, I reckon," answered one of the men. Loxley gritted his teeth and uttered a quiet curse. It was obvious that he and Much still had some problems left to resolve. It was also clear that Loxley was concerned about his foster-brother. Loxley wished that Much wouldn't take such risks, like the time when Much was poaching and Loxley tried to protect him from Gisburne...Gisburne. A flood of thoughts suddenly tumbled into Robin's head.

After Gisburne and his men had captured Loxley and Much, Loxley had met Will Scarlet and two of the earlier outlaws, Dickon and Tom...

When they had worked together to escape, it had been Gisburne who pursued Loxley with such zeal across the courtyard, causing Loxley to seek refuge in Nottingham Castle. There, Loxley had inadvertently met Marion and the two had fallen in love...

Loxley met both Herne and Little John in Sherwood, where he and the others had planned to hide from Gisburne...

Gisburne had travelled to the mill to question Much's father, Matthew, about the whereabouts of his son and the other outlaws. When Matthew had failed to cooperate, Gisburne had killed him, driving Much to join Loxley and the others in Sherwood...

Loxley would not have first met Nasir unless he had gone to that archery tournament the Sheriff had held to entice and trap him using the Silver Arrow. To get the Silver Arrow, Simon de Belleme had captured Marion, the girl Loxley had fallen in love with. Because of this love, Loxley had risked his life to save her. By rescuing Marion and killing Belleme, Loxley had liberated Nasir, who spared Loxley's life after he defeated him in a fight. Nasir later went to Sherwood to join Loxley and fight against the Sheriff and Gisburne. Gisburne...

Directly or indirectly, it was Gisburne who had set about the turn of events that had caused Loxley to become an outlaw and meet the group of people who were to become the members of his band. Because Guy of Huntingdon had existed instead of Guy of Gisburne, everything in this time had turned out differently. But why had Gisburne changed...?

Robin suddenly felt his eyes being pulled towards Albion and the answer flashed before his eyes.

He saw himself and his friends in Wickham as they had been before the Wheel had turned. Everything was black: the sky, the ashes of the burnt huts around them, and the cold motionless bodies. He and the others were running across the village, searching for some sign of life among the silent mass. There had been none.

Robin saw himself tremble and kneel beside Alison, Matthew and Edward. He took Edward's hand, tears standing painfully in his eyes.

_  
Why didn't I see this? Why didn't you tell me, Herne? Why couldn't I understand? I could have stopped this if I had known...If only I had known! They were innocent. They did nothing to deserve any of this. I've fought all this time to save them from poverty and injustice and now they're dead. They're all dead! All dead because I wasn't there to save them. You chose your son wrongly, Herne. I wish you had never laid eyes upon me at all! I wish I had never become your son. _

Then Robin's eyes weren't his anymore. The two lids that opened were Guy's. Robin remembered the stranger's face he had seen in the pool of water. It had been Guy's! Guy's face suddenly passing over his...

But this wasn't Guy of Huntingdon he was seeing in this vision. It was Gisburne again. The knight was being conducted across the courtyard of Nottingham Castle, his hands tied securely behind his back. Someone was  
forcing him to kneel before a block of stone. An execution?

A tall man stood over the knight with an axe wielded in his hands. Everything began to go dark. Robin thought he was losing the vision, but then understood that the knight had been blindfolded.

Robin was afraid but it wasn't his own fear he was experiencing. With a jolt, Robin knew that Gisburne's emotions had forced their way into his mind. Robin struggled to escape from them, but the emotions were so strong that they drowned his own feelings out. The fear was there, but, more than that, there was an immense burning wave of anger. Then, Gisburne's emotions were formed into thoughts, and Robin was amazed that he could hear them as clearly as he did. It was as if the knight were standing beside him and speaking the words, Robin the unfortunate and unwilling witness.

_  
I'm free of you at last, Sheriff. I'm free! If only I had had more power, Sheriff. I could have beaten you then. You, and your position, and money, and men. Oh, but I'll get you, Sheriff...Even if I have to wait until you're in hell to do it. _

The thoughts came to a halt. The anger dissipated as fear grew to replace it. Despite the darkness of the blindfold, Robin could suddenly see the axe flying down as if it were coming straight towards him. He felt a strangled cry in his throat.

Robin struggled again but he couldn't make himself move. He tried to shut his eyes against the sight, but the axe kept falling. He tried to cry out. Then, the axe stopped and hovered as if frozen above him.

The darkness was gone. The ugly sight of the sharp axe disappeared. It was Rhiannon's Wheel he saw now. Its ancient mythical stones of grey began to turn slowly before him. The stones whirled around, and Robin knew that nothing could stop them but the ancient gods themselves.

Both he and Gisburne had wished that things could be different. He had wished that he had never become Herne's son. Gisburne had wished that he had more power than the Sheriff. He aspired to be anyone else but the man who had been kneeling over an executioner's block: to be Guy of Huntingdon!

Perhaps it was the tie of blood they shared, or the utter hopelessness and death surrounding them both, that had caused their wishes to be linked as one wish and one plea to the ancients that controlled the Wheel of Time. But no matter what part Gisburne had played in the manipulation of things, it had been Robin who had demanded the Wheel's turning, paying no heed to Herne's warning and thinking selfishly of no one but himself.

"I'm such a fool."

"Why do you say that?" asked Loxley. Robin looked up from Albion in surprise, unaware that he had said this aloud. Robin gazed levelly into the green eyes in front of him and saw the true depth they held. Loxley wasn't so young after all. He had seen more through those eyes than half of the nobles twice his age.

Robin remembered the day he was first summoned by Herne. On that day, Robin had refused to become his son. It had taken him a whole year to accept his destiny.

_Loxley's the wise one_, thought Robin, _and I'm nothing but a fool_. His own father had described Robin as "an empty-headed fool who thinks of nothing but himself" when he had refused his responsibility and the future title of the Earl of Huntingdon. His father had spoken about how Robin had again denied his destiny.

Robin had denied his destiny a third time when he had found his friends in Wickham dead, cursing Herne for choosing him as his son. He had renounced everything he had come to believe in by turning the Wheel of Time.

Because of him, his friends had now split up or, to be more precise, had never come together in the first place. Marion was the widow of the ruthless Baron de Belleme. Tuck was a miserable chaplain, cowering under the might of the Sheriff. Will was nothing better than a cutthroat and a thief. Much and Loxley were struggling in an almost crippled band of witless peasants, though fighting even more against each other. John and Nasir were still lost to him, possibly even dead. He was to blame for it all.

"I'm a fool," answered Robin at last, "because I denied my destiny and, because of it, lost everything that was important to me...including my friends."

"Then you must fight to get it back," said Loxley, after reflecting for a moment or two on the subject. "No one can deny their destiny. You must fight if you wish to get it back."

"Even if I'm not certain what I'm fighting against?" asked Robin bitterly.

"That's when you have to fight the hardest," replied the outlaw with a smile. "To protect what is rightfully yours."

Robin nodded, observing the way that Loxley's fingers passed almost lovingly over his sword. Robin gazed up at the trees that towered around them. "I would do anything to get it back," he stated in a voice that was quiet, but firm: so firm that Loxley wished this young stranger would be more open about his troubles.

Loxley opened his mouth to ask the stranger about this destiny of his, but the words that came out were directed at Much. "_Now_ where have you been?" he demanded angrily.

Much glared at Loxley defiantly and ignored the question, sitting down among the outlaws in silence. There was a rustle of leaves and another one of the outlaws appeared, escorting a frightened looking monk who had been thrust into his care. Tuck. Robin had been a fool because he had completely forgotten about Tuck! The poor man must have been wandering alone in the forest for hours searching for him. Robin rose quickly to see Tuck, who beamed in absolute relief at the sight of his young friend.

"My Lord of Huntingdon, thank God I've found you!" cried Tuck. "When you didn't return, I feared that something terrible had happened to you!"

"My Lord of Huntingdon?" Loxley's eyes narrowed as he seemed to notice the fine clothes for the first time. Then he remembered where he had seen the young stranger before. "You're Guy of Huntingdon's brother, aren't you?" he said, and Robin could see that Loxley's pride was still a little bruised after that fight he had lost to Guy.

"I was," replied Robin. "He's dead now."

Loxley's eyes widened a little. "I'm sorry," he said, and Robin was surprised to hear him sound sincere about it: more sincere than he himself could ever sound and more sorry. But Robin was soon to realize how fortunate he had truly been to have Guy of Huntingdon as a brother.

  


* * * * 

  
The sound of a bird call warbled through the forest and into the outlaw camp. This was a signal from the outlaw Loxley had posted on watch a short time ago. Robin rose with Loxley and the other outlaws as they ran towards the road.

Although they were still some distance away, Robin could discern that it was a party of at least four riders: two in front and two behind. From what Robin could make out of the two riders in front, one was a large man who almost made his horse seem small in comparison. The other man was dressed fully in black and his hair was dark.

Robin rejoiced silently to himself. The two riders in front were John and Nasir. They had to be. There were hardly two men in England like them. His headache subsided a little. John and Nasir were still safe and well, and together, which was surely a good sign. Maybe Robin had at last found someone who could actually remember who he was.

"Don't harm them," said Robin to Loxley and the other men as they spread out across the road. "They may be friends of mine." Loxley gave his assent to this, but had his men ready their arrows just in case.

Robin felt a hand on his shoulder. Tuck, who had been forgotten once again, was there, panting after his tiring run to catch up with the outlaws. Much followed, joining the group just in time to greet the party of riders who were approaching.

As they came closer, Robin could clearly see that it was John and Nasir who were riding in front. As they maneuvered their horses to the sides of the road to let the other two riders pass, Robin could also recognize the faces of the other two members of the party.

At first, Robin felt a flutter in his stomach when he caught sight of Marion, but even his eyes couldn't remain transfixed upon her beautiful and graceful figure. They fell upon the hard set features of the man who rode beside her, the man who had been lying dead in his arms only hours ago. By some miracle, Guy of Huntingdon was breathing life again.

Robin gaped up at his half-brother in amazement as Guy sharply reined his horse in front of him. "Guy, I can't believe it," he said to the stern-looking figure above him. "I thought you were dead,"

"Did you now?" was Guy's only reply.

"My lord," said Marion to Robin, "You must tell your brother that--"

"He's not my brother!" barked Guy.

"What?" said Robin.

"My lord, you really mustn't say such things," protested Marion, looking a little flustered. "He's not well," she added to Robin in a whisper.

"I'm not well?" shouted Guy energetically. "I'm not the one who thinks I'm the Baroness de Belleme, you stupid woman!"

"Oh, my lord!" cried Marion.

"Oh, yes, go on pretending then!" snarled Guy. "But you're mad if you think you can prove to me that you're no longer an outlaw! I never believed it before when you claimed it!"

Marion swallowed back her anger and frustration and looked down at Robin imploringly for help. The outlaws exchanged glances, amused by the scene of drama taking place in front of them. They started to like this noble who had chosen to pass through Sherwood. He was providing them with such fine entertainment.

They wondered how their new friend was going to handle this. Their new friend wondered himself.

What had come over Guy? Was he truly unwell? Marion said he was. Robin still wasn't too sure what kind of behaviour he should expect from Guy, but to say that they weren't brothers and to accuse Marion of being an outlaw...Why, it was almost as if he wasn't Guy of Huntingdon at all, but...

Robin glanced back at his brother sharply. "Guy...?" But Guy was staring past Robin, his attention focused directly on Loxley. His face had turned a few shades paler. Robin believed he was actually shaking.

"He's supposed to be dead!" gasped Guy, almost fearfully. "He should be dead!"

The amused glances of the outlaws turned into troubled ones and a couple of men made open signs of discontent. However, Loxley remained calm, no expression apparent on his face for some time. Then he smiled at Guy slyly.

"What seems to be the matter, Guy?" he asked cheerfully.

Guy's eyes widened and he shook his head fervently. "No, no...it can't be..." He looked at Robin, his eyes piercing like daggers. "By Christ, what's going on here?" he shouted.

Robin recognized the cold unfeeling eyes and knew for certain that this wasn't Guy of Huntingdon. "Gisburne," he said, his voice as dead as a stone. Robin didn't know how it was possible, or how he had managed it, but Gisburne was now here and a part of this time instead of Huntingdon.

"Well, Wolfshead, what's going on here?" exclaimed the knight. "What's happening?"

"That's what I'd like to know," stated a voice. Will Scarlet stepped through some bushes and on to the road. He stood, grimacing angrily as he rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head where Tuck had hit him.

Well, the outlaws of Sherwood were back together again, with the unfortunate addition of Gisburne, who, along with being Robin's worst enemy, was the only person who knew who Robin really was. Gisburne now knew Robin better than Robin's own friends.

Robin started to laugh. He had to. It was his only defence.

  


* * * * 

  
As the outlaws watched the two brothers, they came to the conclusion that they were both mad. One had almost gone white to the lip, he was so full of fury, while the other laughed as if there would be no tomorrow. The outlaws looked to their leader for some guidance, but Loxley felt just as confused as they did. He was as lost as everyone but Robin and Gisburne, who understood the feud they shared only too well.

Gisburne began to curse. He cursed with such fluency that even Marion blushed and the outlaws listened in awe. But what did Gisburne care? He had had a horrible day or, at least, what he thought had been _a day_.

First, he had almost been executed, then captured and brought to Belleme Castle, where he had been confronted by Marion, some wench, and Gulnar, all of whom had tried to trick him with a succession of lies. Then, he had landed himself in this trap set up by the outlaws, which made Gisburne especially angry. He had had the perfect plan to capture that wolfshead and the whole thing had backfired on him!

As soon as Marion had summoned her so-called servants, Little John and that Saracen, Nasir, Gisburne knew that any hopes he had had of capturing Robin Hood were gone. He could do nothing with those two around. Nevertheless, they seemed harmless enough. They had agreed with everything Marion had said, even going so far as to call her "my lady".

Of course, Gisburne reasoned, it was probably a part of the whole charade they had used to entice him to Sherwood. This trap included the use of devilry to summon up Robin of Loxley's spirit to haunt him, though Gisburne couldn't understand why they needed to do that! It didn't matter. They had tried to humiliate him...They _were_ humiliating him, and that wolfshead was laughing. Laughing at him.

_If I could only lay my hands on him, I would give him something to laugh about_, thought Gisburne viciously. _I'll teach Robin Hood the price he'll have to pay for mocking Guy of Gisburne. If I could only get down from my horse and throttle him!_

Gisburne felt he had good reason to be unhappy, as Robin soon realized. Robin had to calm the knight down before Gisburne said something they would both regret. Robin had learned that when Gisburne was frightened of something, he would either turn abruptly from it, or, more often than not, stand his ground more fiercely than ever.

If Gisburne was pushed far enough, he could possess the courage of the toughest soldier. However, this was also the same man who, time after time, leaped into things without either thought or reason: the type of behaviour that might be more than dangerous. In this time, it could prove deadly.

Robin quickly decided that the best course of action would be to take Gisburne aside and let him cool his head before he said anything else that was foolish or reckless. Robin had to speak to Gisburne alone and do his best to explain what was happening around them, even though he wasn't able to understand it all that well himself.

He allowed his sharp scrutiny of Gisburne to rest for a moment and touched Loxley's arm. Robin pulled the outlaw far enough away so the two could speak in private.

"My brother is obviously not well," said Robin in a whisper he hoped would be convincing in its concern.

"You told me your brother was dead," replied Loxley, who respectfully kept his voice low as well.

"Yes, and so I thought he was! The story I was told of his injuries must have been greatly exaggerated, but, as you can see, he really isn't himself. You noticed that I laughed when I saw him. I did so because I believed that his death must have been some terrible trick that had been played on me and that his strange behaviour was some act of madness he was playing out. But try as I might, I just couldn't humour him. And you must have seen how angry he became and heard the claim he made that you were dead."

"He is mad," stated Loxley.

"Perhaps," said Robin, feigning an expression of sadness. "But maybe he still knows me and it's not too late to save him," he added, allowing a note of optimism to enter into his voice. "Let me speak to him alone. If I could try to get through to him and understand what's happened--"

"Are you sure you want to do that?" asked Loxley, studying the fury in Guy's face.

"He's my brother. I have to," said Robin, wishing he could sound more noble about it. "Listen, he might not be as willing to speak as I am. I might need your help to persuade him. Do you understand?" Loxley indicated that he did and Robin walked back to Gisburne. "We have to talk," he informed the knight.

"Do we?" asked Guy, almost innocently. "Well, go ahead and speak then, though I have nothing to say to you."

"You said you wanted to know what's going on. Come down from your horse and we'll talk about it."

Gisburne stayed where he was. "Do you really expect me to fall for that? To be led into another one of your traps? I'm not going anywhere with you!"

_Oh, well, Gisburne, I did try_, thought Robin to himself. He gave a quick and meaningful glance at Loxley who, in turn, signalled to his men to raise their weapons. But Marion was equally quick to alert John and Nasir. She looked down defiantly at the ragged outlaws below her.

Albion wavered for a few seconds as Loxley noticed the Baroness for the first time. He believed that he had never seen such a beautiful face in all his life. However, Gisburne ignored Marion's beauty and stared at the weapons John and Nasir held in their hands. He was absolutely astounded. Why in Heaven's name were they so willing to fight against their own side if it only meant protecting him? They hated him. And why was Loxley still standing there in front of him, showing no signs of being dead? This was what really staggered Gisburne.

Perhaps, it was for this reason that he eventually surrendered and dismounted his horse, though Gisburne had been at a complete loss as to what else he could do. The wolfsheads had just been standing there, waving swords, daggers and quarterstaffs in the air. If they had started fighting amongst themselves, it would have been worthwhile to watch, but they had just stood there, frozen to the spot.

Robin beckoned to Gisburne as casually as if he were inviting one of his friends to go hunting with him, or participate in some friendly archery practice. Gisburne resigned himself to his fate and followed, unwilling as he was to accept any terms his enemy offered. Robin led the knight some distance into the forest then stopped when they had reached the quiet secluded glade he had been searching for.

"Sit down," said Robin, indicating the roots of a large tree.

"I'll stand," stated Gisburne, who didn't want to seem too agreeable to anything Robin Hood suggested. He also didn't want to place himself in a position where that wolfshead could dominate him.

"All right, I'll sit, then," replied Robin, who was weary from the previous night's adventure. His head was still throbbing from the visions that had forced their way into his mind. He wondered what he should say. He looked up at his adversary, who leaned against another tree and waited for an explanation. Robin didn't know where or how he should start. He tried to grasp at some words he might use to explain things, but he was saved the effort when Gisburne started speaking first.

"The Sheriff said he was dead," said Gisburne, so quietly that, at first, Robin thought that Gisburne was speaking to himself. "He said that his body was unrecognizable and couldn't be brought back to Nottingham. Why would he lie? Why would any of you?" He focused directly on Robin. "What did Loxley hope to gain by hiding the truth? Why would he pretend all of this time to be dead?"

"He _is_ dead, Gisburne."

"Then why...Who is that man?"

Robin smiled weakly. "Robin of Loxley."

"What?"

"Are you sure you don't want to sit down?"

"Yes! Now what are you talking about? What kind of trick is this, anyway?"

"The only trick is us, Gisburne. We shouldn't be here."

"Yes, I know. _I_ should be in Nottingham!"

"Dead?" said Robin, suddenly taking a real step towards his point. "Because that's what you would have been if you had stayed in Nottingham, isn't it?"

Guy stared blankly at Robin for a few moments before Robin's words had any meaning. "It was you! Why?"

"What do you mean?" asked Robin.

"Don't lie to me!" exclaimed Gisburne indignantly. "You know exactly what I mean. I was to be executed. You must know that. And you stopped it for some reason. And then you took me as your prisoner, to further humiliate me, perhaps!"

"You think we captured you?" said Robin.

"Yes, and then you took me to Belleme Castle...though why I don't know. Why did you, Wolfshead?"

"I didn't capture you, Gisburne."

"And you expect me to believe that when Marion of Leaford and Gulnar were standing over me when I woke up?" cried Gisburne.

"Gulnar!"

"Yes," replied Gisburne, almost satisfied that Robin was surprised by this information. "He's supposed to be dead too, isn't he? As Marion should be, for that matter."

"And so should you," added Robin, angry at the slight Gisburne had given Marion. But Robin only succeeded in causing some amusement for Gisburne, who smiled twistedly. Robin felt his anger rise to a higher level, and then he was rising as well to confront his enemy. But Robin halted a few steps away from the knight. The only hand he laid on Gisburne was one that fingered the dried patch of blood on the tunic in front of him, the fine tunic similar to his own. It was too fine and expensive a tunic to be a part of Gisburne's wardrobe. This could only belong to one man.

"Where did you get this?" demanded Robin, jabbing his finger into the knight's chest.

Gisburne looked down at what he was wearing, but his expression was even more clouded than Robin's. "I...I can't remember," he answered truthfully.

"Well, tell me what you do remember. Everything you remember. Now."

"But--" began Gisburne.

"Do it!" ordered Robin.

  


* * * * 

  
Gisburne's story, including even the details of his trial and execution, poured out with every bit of anger, contempt and frustration he could muster. But Robin listened carefully, nevertheless. He listened especially well when Gisburne spoke of Marion.

"She's mad," concluded Gisburne. "She claims to be the Baroness de Belleme and says I'm this Guy of Huntingdon. Then, she says I should be grateful to her because she saved my life, that she brought me back from the dead. It's ridiculous! She kept calling me 'my Lord of Huntingdon,' insisting that I rest all the time. What's the matter with her anyway?"

"I don't know," said Robin, "but I mean to find out!" He started to walk off in search of Marion, completely forgetting about Gisburne, until the knight called him back.

"What about Loxley?" demanded Gisburne. "And you still haven't told me what's going on."

_Or explained about this new time_, thought Robin to himself. He decided that he owed the man that much at least and turned back. "I really do think that you should sit down," suggested Robin, as he took his own seat again.

"Why?" growled Gisburne. "Do you think I'm going to faint or something?"

_Or murder me, perhaps_, thought Robin. He sighed when Gisburne remained standing. "To start with, we're in a different time," he began.

"A different time? There's no such thing as a different time!"

"There is now," muttered Robin.

"What?"

"The Wheel has turned. The Wheel of Time, Gisburne."

"There's no such--"

"--thing as the Wheel of Time?" asked Robin. "Just because you haven't seen it, doesn't mean that it doesn't exist."

"It does to me."

"You can't be much of a Christian, then," said Robin, thinking of all the people who believed in God, but who hadn't actually _seen Him_.

"Are you questioning my--"

"No, don't start," interrupted Robin, knowing where such an argument with Gisburne could lead. "Just listen. While you were in Nottingham being executed--"

"For something I didn't do."

"All right. While you were in Nottingham being executed for something you didn't do, we were in Wickham--"

"If you were in Wickham, then how did you know I was being executed?" Guy broke in again.

"That doesn't matter. I'll come to that later. We were in Wickham and--"

"What if I want to know now?" asked Gisburne irritably.

Robin groaned, feeling rather irritable himself. It was hard enough to explain things without Gisburne's constant interruptions. However, Gisburne actually seemed capable of understanding someone else's frustration for once and relented.

"All right, then. What happened in Wickham?"

"It was attacked and burnt to the ground," said Robin quietly.

Gisburne stared back at Robin, startled despite the fact that he had been the one who had wanted to destroy the village for years. "Burnt to the ground?" he asked in disbelief.

"And everyone was killed...That's why Rhiannon's Wheel turned."

Gisburne sniggered. "That's impossible. That heap of old stones turn?"

"You know about Rhiannon's Wheel?" said Robin in surprise.

"Only from the superstitious nonsense I've heard about it."

"Then you know of the Wheel's power."

"I know what those pathetic serfs think."

"It's not only what they think, Gisburne. It's true. The Wheel turned. Why do you think everything is so different? Why is Loxley still alive? Or Gulnar? Why does Marion think that she's the Baroness de Belleme? Why does everyone call you Guy of Huntingdon instead of Gisburne? Where did you get those clothes? Knights can't afford a wardrobe like that!"

Gisburne looked down and studied the immaculate, yet bloody tunic he was wearing. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's a trick of some kind...It has to be."

"It's not a trick! The Wheel has turned and, somehow, we've both stayed the same, while everything else has changed."

"And you believe this, do you?" said Gisburne cynically. Robin didn't answer. "Well?"

"Do you remember the day Loxley was killed?" asked Robin. The knight raised an eyebrow as if Loxley's death was still a matter of doubt. "I shot you in the arm. Do you remember?"

Gisburne looked away. "It's hard not to. I still have the scar."

"Then lift your sleeve and show it to me."

"Why? Do you wish to admire your handiwork?"

"I don't think there's anything to admire. I think any scar you might have had is gone."

"You don't believe there's a scar, Wolfshead?"

"No, I don't."

"All right, then."

Robin smiled as Guy began to roll up his sleeve. He knew that Gisburne wouldn't be able to resist the temptation of proving him wrong. But, once again, the knight would fail.

"I don't see anything, Gisburne," said Robin, as his enemy searched almost frantically for some kind of mark on his arm.

"But that's--"

"Impossible? Sit down, Gisburne."

The knight shook his head. He still wouldn't sit down, but he remained in the glade all the same to listen to Robin's story, which continued, this time, without interruption.

  


* * * * 

  
Robin carefully told his story, making sure that Gisburne understood that other people only "thought" that they were brothers. This was a very difficult subject for him to lie about, but Robin knew how much trouble could arise if Gisburne knew the truth: it was the sort of trouble that didn't even begin with Guy. Robin found Gisburne's uncanny silence and stony glare unnerving. Gisburne's eyes barely blinked throughout the entire narrative.

When it was finished, Robin glanced up at the knight for a response. He certainly got one.

"That," replied Gisburne, "is the most outrageous lie I've heard."

"You don't believe me?" said Robin, who wasn't really surprised.

"Of course I don't believe you! It's utter nonsense!" Gisburne studied the outlaw's honest earnest face. "My God, you actually believe all of this, don't you? You're a fool. No, no, you're more than a fool. You're a madman! You're insane! You're a lunatic...like Gulnar and Marion. No, stay away from me, Wolfshead. I don't want any part of it!" And, with an elaborate swirl of his cloak, Gisburne started to walk away.

"Gisburne!" called Robin, rising quickly to his feet. "Gisburne, wait! "You still don't understand!"

"All I have to understand is that you're mad!" fumed Gisburne. "That's all I have to understand!"

Robin pursued Gisburne out of the clearing. "What are you running from, Gisburne? You're not actually afraid of me, are you?" Robin caught up to Gisburne and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Get away from me!" yelled the knight, aiming his arm for a punch. He missed as Robin deftly ducked his swing, receiving a blow to his cheekbone as compensation. Gisburne swooned a little at the blow, but didn't fall. He was determined not to lose this battle. He too was tired and upset and becoming increasingly fearful of the madness that seemed to surround him. He pushed his adversary roughly to the ground and ran in the direction where he hoped the road lay. He went quickly through the camp and past the bewildered outlaws.

"My Lord of Huntingdon!" cried the Baroness, who had been accompanied back to the camp by Loxley.

Gisburne pushed past her as well. The outlaws, including Robin, who had just arrived, breathless, on the scene, followed him. Gisburne mounted his horse just as Robin stumbled forward to grab the bridle.

"Don't be a fool!" whispered Robin sharply. "You don't know what you're up against!"

"I'm going to Nottingham, Wolfshead, and you're not going to stop me."

"But the Sheriff tried to have you executed, remember?" said Robin, grasping at any words that might prevent Gisburne from leaving.

"I'll risk it!" rasped Gisburne, who felt he had been pushed more than a little past his limits. He kicked Robin in the face and thundered off towards the main road before anyone could even think of stopping him.

Loxley assisted his new companion to his feet, watching the blood course from his nose down to his fancy tunic.

"Shouldn't we go after him?" asked Loxley, who knew that if Much ever pulled anything like that, he'd be after him in a flash.

"No," replied Robin angrily. "Leave him. Let him go where he likes."

  


* * * * 

Gisburne rode towards Nottingham Castle, concentrating on barely any of his surroundings. He was too busy calculating what he would say to the Sheriff when he saw him. Gisburne had dismissed several plans of action already, including one that had hinged upon him fleeing north and heading into Scotland. But he refused to run this time.

He was going to face the Sheriff. Fleeing was a coward's resource. Besides, he believed that running was futile. The Sheriff would find him sooner or later. No, he had no choice but to face the Sheriff. However, it would be on his own terms and not de Rainault's.

Gisburne might have been willing to confront the Sheriff, but he wasn't such a fool as to present himself unarmed, though he was not equipped with a sword this time. His weapons were more sharper and powerful than that. They had to be for the kind of game the Sheriff played, which employed fine wordplay over swordsmanship. Gisburne had learned a great many of the skills dealt with in the Sheriff's craft. He had slowly laboured and toiled under the hard tutelage of his lord and he was now prepared to display all that he had learned.

The knight's confidence slowly began to ebb back again as he planned the eloquent speech he hoped to present to the Sheriff. Then, inspiration struck and a wonderful idea presented itself. Gisburne knew how he would beat the Sheriff. If what he had seen in Sherwood was actually real, and not some terrible illusion, then the Sheriff would have to listen to his terms. Loxley was an integral part of Gisburne's plan.

Loxley was supposed to be dead. The Sheriff had claimed that Loxley was killed that day on the tor. But what if Loxley wasn't really dead and the Sheriff had been lying all this time to save his own neck. After all, the Sheriff had been under a lot of pressure from King John to kill Robin Hood.

When Gisburne had asked the Sheriff where the body was, de Rainault had replied that the body was unrecognizable and the people would say it was only a trick. Could the Sheriff have been covering his own deceitful tracks with this unforgivable lie? Gisburne smiled to himself. He would soon find out.

Guy urged his horse to pick up speed when he spotted the castle. He passed through the gates, waiting to see the surprised looks on the guards's faces. However, their features didn't change and they allowed him to pass without question. Gisburne was disappointed. Then, his disappointment was replaced by another emotion entirely.

When he reached the stables and handed his horse's reins to the stable boy, he had expected at least a gasp of astonishment. Instead, the boy bowed almost reverently and didn't say a word. Guy walked out of the stables, completely puzzled. No one had ever bowed to him. These new stable boys were becoming more and more impudent every day, he thought. But, on entering the castle, Gisburne found that this impudence had spread beyond the stables.

He felt wary when more servants bowed to him and no one seemed shocked by his sudden reappearance. He was even more alarmed, though, when he began to think through his plan again. He suddenly realized that there were some very large gaps in his theory about Loxley and the Sheriff. The first problem was that de Rainault would have had to bribe the hundred soldiers who were with him that day on the tor to keep silent. Then, there was the fact that Loxley had gone along with the news of his death when he had no reason to feign his death in the first place!

Gisburne started to doubt the marvelous piece of blackmail he was going to employ against the Sheriff. He felt a strong impulse to turn back and escape from the castle while he still could. However, his feet had already carried him to the great hall and a servant had noticed him in the corridor. And this wasn't just _any_ servant. Gisburne heard himself gasp audibly. It was Ralph! It was the man who had worked a short time for the Sheriff and had tried to steal Gisburne's own position from right under him. Ralph was the man Gisburne had worked with to find the Baron de Belleme's hidden jewels. He was the man Gisburne could have sworn he murdered...

God's Throat, was this Ralph's ghost returning to haunt him? Gisburne felt blood begin to drain away from his face and feared that his legs would buckle under him.

"My lord, are you all right?" asked Ralph, taking Gisburne's arm to steady him.

His fingers...He could feel Ralph's fingers. The bones...they seemed so real!

"Ralph?" quavered Gisburne fearfully. "Is it really you?"

"You remember me," said the other man cheerfully. "I didn't think you would. It's been a long time."

"Has it?" croaked Gisburne.

"Oh, well, of course, it seems like only yesterday."

"It does?" Gisburne trembled.

"My years in that castle were the best years I ever spent. Your father was very kind to me. I looked up to him a great deal. I still do for that matter, of course."

"What?" Gisburne exclaimed. Ralph had to be mistaken about that! Ralph had never known his father. He had to be confusing him with someone else. Edmond of Gisburne had never been kind to anyone.

"And, of course, my lord, the Earl is a great and powerful man," added Ralph.

Ralph thought his father was an earl? And Ralph used to think he was so clever when he was alive. He was a complete idiot now that he was dead! Suddenly, Guy stopped fearing this spirit. "I want to see the Sheriff," he told Ralph.

"Of course, my lord," said Ralph. "If you would be so good as to follow me..."

Follow a spirit? Gisburne didn't think so!

"No, I know the way perfectly well myself!" Gisburne sidestepped the anxious steward and marched stubbornly into the hall.

"Guy of Huntingdon," shouted Ralph, trying to announce Gisburne's arrival.

The knight stopped dead as the name Ralph cried echoed all around him. What the hell was going on?

"My Lord of Huntingdon!" cried the Sheriff, rushing up to greet Gisburne. "It's good to see you again, my lord. I feared for your safety when you disappeared so suddenly last night. I do hope everything is well."

Gisburne stared blankly at de Rainault.

"My lord, you've been wounded!" the Sheriff remarked, observing the blood stain on Guy's tunic.

"It's nothing," Gisburne heard himself say.

The Sheriff guided Gisburne gently to a chair. Was the Sheriff also mad, wondered Gisburne, as de Rainault fussed over him like a mother hen. "Ralph, go fetch the physician immediately!" ordered the Sheriff. "Here, my lord, drink this," he said, shoving his own wine cup under Gisburne's nose.

_Is this really happening?_ thought Gisburne in astonishment.

"My lord, you look exhausted. Might I not conduct you to a chamber where you could rest?"

Rest? How could he rest at a time like this? Everyone around him had gone mad! Then, Gisburne had a terrifying thought. What if he was the one who and gone mad and not those around him? Unfortunately, it seemed to make more sense. Surely the inhabitants of a whole castle, let alone a town, could not all go mad at once. It had to be him.

He had been under a tremendous strain lately with the execution and everything...Maybe, and Gisburne prayed that this was true, the blow he had received on the head when the outlaws had captured him had been a bit too hard and he had temporarily lost his reason. Yes, that had to be it! But, Gisburne reminded himself, would a blow to the head make you see the spirits of three men you thought were dead, or make those around you seem like lunatics?

"My lord, do you wish to rest?" asked the Sheriff once again to the man who had apparently gone deaf.

"Rest? No! I mean, yes...I mean..."

"Perhaps, my lord, it would be best," said the Sheriff, assisting Gisburne from his chair.

Rest, thought Guy. Yes, perhaps he should rest. For some reason, he did feel remarkably tired. If he went to sleep, he could wake a few hours later and find that all of this had ended. It was possible that none of this was real. The whole thing might just be one huge nightmare, including his trial and execution, he hoped. He followed the Sheriff up to his chamber and, for the first time in his life, staked everything on dreams.

  


* * * * 

  
"He's not well, my lord," said Marion for what seemed, to Robin, to be the hundredth time. "We should go after him."

"Not yet," answered Robin, rubbing tired eyes. "I need time to think." They were both sitting in the outlaw camp with some of Loxley's men, Tuck, John and Nasir.

"He's your brother," argued Marion. "You shouldn't need time to think!" Robin said nothing. "Well, if you're not going to do anything about it, then I shall!"

"You'll stay here," commanded Robin firmly.

Marion rose and glared down at Robin angrily.

"Sit down, Marion, or I'll tie you to the nearest tree," growled Robin, losing his patience with her altogether.

"How dare you speak so...so rudely to a lady?" Marion cried. "I don't care if you are an earl's son. You have no right to speak to me that way. I'll have one of my servants deal with you if you're not careful!"

"Then I wouldn't think you much of a lady," said Robin quietly, looking grimly at his two friends, who were no longer free but bound by the whips of servitude.

He resented the fact that Marion had taken their friends and made them into her slaves. Furthermore, she was willing to use them as a shield in times of trouble, something his Marion would never have dreamed of. He said as much to the Baroness, who flushed and moved towards him in a very uncowardly fashion.

"I am not afraid of you! Just because you choose to dishonour your brother by becoming an outlaw and threatening me--"

"I didn't mean to threaten you, Marion," said Robin more gently. "And, as for being an outlaw, I'm as much of an outlaw now as you are."

"Then why are you here in Sherwood with-with these cutthroats?" asked Marion, turning her gaze to Loxley's men.

"Why are you? Could it be that my brother was right and you _are_ an outlaw? Oh, Marion, no wonder your beloved Guy took off on you!" replied Robin recklessly. When he saw the look on Marion's face, he wished he had bitten his tongue out first.

Marion moved quickly away from him. She sank dejectedly before the fire, staring sightlessly into its flamy depths. She sensed that Robin was watching her and raised her chin high. Robin believed that he had never seen her look so vulnerable or fragile. He began to wonder if he could possibly make things any worse.

As if on cue, a series of shouts echoed across the camp, sounding very much like a heated argument. Then, things became too quiet. Robin and the outlaws stood as one body and ran out of the camp. They didn't have to go far. They met Loxley and the remaining outlaws as the group headed back towards the camp.

"What happened?" cried Robin when he saw Much tearfully assist Loxley to the camp. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," answered Loxley, trying not to grimace as a brief twinge of pain went through him. He held a rather shaky hand against his chest, and Robin saw a bit of crimson seep through Loxley's tunic and on to his fingers. Guy of Huntingdon had been dealt a similar wound and had died from it...

"It's all right," said Loxley, as he saw the look of concern on Robin's face. "The wound isn't deep."

"Who did this to you?" demanded Robin.

"That damned fool, Scarlet," answered one of the other outlaws. "And if we hadn't of stopped him, he might have killed Loxley too."

Robin felt himself go cold. "Did you...kill him?" he asked warily.

"The coward fled!" spat another one with passion.

"We should have killed him," stated Much, trying to keep his voice from trembling. "I-I will kill him! I'll go now. He can't have gotten far and --"

"No," said Loxley.

"But Robin--"

"Killing him will accomplish nothing, Much. Now you know better than that. Didn't I teach you better than that? I taught you _all_ better than that. Besides, I was the one who started it." Loxley smiled despite the pain of his wound.

They walked on towards the camp and soon met Marion at its threshold. She stood as if she had been waiting for them.

"We need your help," said Robin. "He's been wounded."

Much helped Loxley to a place before the fire, and Marion carefully examined the outlaw's wound. Although it had been some time since she had administered her nursing on anyone, she still remembered most of the principles of healing and herblore she had been taught. She was usually prepared for such emergencies anyway.

"There should be some herbs in my saddlebag," she told Much. "Could you fetch them for me?"

"Yes, my lady," said Much shyly, then he ran like a rabbit to find them.

"How did this happen?" Marion asked Loxley as she ripped up cloth to make a bandage.

"He was fighting, my lady," answered an outlaw, who was a little more bold than Much.

"Why?" Marion asked Loxley in interest.

"I was speaking to the outlaw known as Will Scarlet," said Loxley. "It began as an argument then turned into a fight."

"What did you argue about?"

"It doesn't matter," snapped Loxley, wincing painfully as Marion delved a little too deeply into his wound.

"I see," replied Marion quietly, looking away.

Loxley read something he didn't like in Marion's expression and quickly strove to repair any hurt feelings on her part. "I called him a cutthroat," said Loxley, feeling rather awkward. "A common cutthroat,"

"You?" Marion tried to hide a smile.

"I am not a cutthroat, my lady."

"Then what would you call yourself?"

"I am an outlaw but not a cutthroat. We are all outlaws and, unlike cutthroats, we don't kill unless we have to. The money we steal is for the poor, not for ourselves. There is a difference."

"Yes," said Marion. "You're fighting against something you can't possibly hope to conquer. At least this Will Scarlet can see that."

"Can he? We try to fight for what we believe in. Isn't that enough?"

Marion met Loxley's intent gaze, but gave no answer.

"I asked him to join us," continued Loxley, speaking to his friends.

"Why?" asked Much, entering the camp with Marion's herbs.

"I don't know. It just came out. And then we were fighting."

"No wonder," murmured one of his men.

"He's good with a sword," said Loxley, as if hearing the comment. "He's one of the best fighters I've ever seen and I have the wound to prove it."

Much frowned. "He could have killed you."

"Yes..." mused Loxley. "It's a pity I couldn't convince him." He turned his attention back to Marion, who had just finished her careful administrations to his wound.

"There," stated Marion. "You are fortunate that the wound isn't deep. It should heal quickly. Probably in a couple of days."

"Thank you," said Loxley, looking straight into Marion's eyes. They locked and, for the first time since he had entered this time, Robin saw Marion's eyes soften and she smiled a little. Then, she bowed her head and tried to look away, but Loxley reached a finger under her chin and lifted her sad shining eyes back to his again.

Robin watched all of this, the same feeling of jealousy returning like a powerful wave to drown him. But this wasn't the same burning hatred he had felt for Guy of Huntingdon. He knew now, as perhaps he had known last night, that Marion had no feelings of love towards Guy. The love she truly felt was something Robin was witnessing now. No, there was no fury. There was only the sadness she had bequeathed to him the day she had left him and Sherwood.

Robin fled from the camp as Gisburne had fled for Nottingham. Robin went deep into the forest as he had done the day before the Wheel turned. He passed tree after tree, trying to escape from her, trying to escape from every essence and mark she had tenderly pressed into his memory. But it was pointless trying to escape from love and all of the emotions connected with it. Robin soon realized that.

He stopped, letting exhaustion first catch up with him, then overtake him. He sat beneath a large oak, taking shelter in its shadow. He laid his head against the rough, yet nurturing, roots that coiled up from the ground and allowed his body to ease into sleep.

  


* * * * 

  
A harsh light forced its way through the shutters and fell across the bed, making its occupant recoil and throw a hand against his eyes. Each finger curled around to form a fist, then straightened, the hand falling on the bed. The eyes blinked open. The knight sat up, looking around the room in an attempt to gain his bearings. Was it still morning? Afternoon? Had a whole day passed?

But what did that matter when he had more important concerns? Were the events that had just occurred real, or just part of some strange and frightening dream? Had he really been captured by those wolfsheads and, as a result, rescued from his own execution? Worse still, was Robin Hood's outlandish story true? It couldn't be. Gisburne refused to believe it. And as for the Sheriff being kind and polite to him, he refused to believe that too. Such an idea was both incredible and impossible!

Gisburne didn't care that there hadn't been one angry word or cruel retort, or that de Rainault hadn't even tried to tease or mock him. It only strengthened his belief that everything he could remember had been pure fantasy.

Everything that had happened after he had entered the courtyard for his execution had to be part of a dream. Maybe the execution itself was a dream, along with that terrible trial he had had to endure, though anything that had been that long and tedious had to have really occurred, decided Gisburne. But if the trial had been real, this might be the morning of the actual execution!

Gisburne threw back the blankets of the bed and pulled on a robe. Then, he went over to the window. He was about to open the shutters and discover the time of day, when a quiet knock intruded upon the door.

"Yes?" said Gisburne, cautiously.

The door opened and the Sheriff's head popped through. "Forgive me. Am I disturbing you?"

"No, my lord," replied Gisburne, confused. The Sheriff was being polite and civil to him. Was something still wrong? "What time of day is it?" he asked, waiting for some kind of snide remark from the Sheriff. But the Sheriff only smiled.

"It's a few hours after midday, my lord. You have not slept long."

"I see," said Gisburne, who did not see at all. Was this still a part of one very long dream, he wondered...he hoped. A servant soundlessly entered the room and laid an impressive set of clothing across a chair. Gisburne watched in amazement.

"I've taken the liberty of asking a servant to fetch you a new set of clothing, my lord. Your tunic was rather...Well, I hope these prove to be satisfactory, my lord." De Rainault waited expectantly for some sign of assent or disagreement from Gisburne, but the knight only stared at the clothes, then at the furnishings around him. Gisburne had just realized that this wasn't his own chamber. It was the kind of chamber reserved for counts, earls and dukes. Sometimes, even royalty. He was only a knight.

Guy felt it again: the wave of panic and the earnest belief that he was going mad, the fear that he was mad already.

"My lord, are you all right?" asked the Sheriff, watching curiously as the young lord gazed pensively around the chamber.

Gisburne slowly focused back on the Sheriff. Then, he gathered up his courage, deciding upon one true test to ascertain whether the Sheriff really believed he was this Guy of Huntingdon and that, in fact, he himself was mad. Gisburne took a deep breath. "I'm fine, Robert," he replied, placing rather heavy emphasis on the Sheriff's given name. He watched for the reaction, but de Rainault only smiled again as if it pleased him that Guy should do this.

"I'm glad to hear it, my lord. If it pleases you, I will send a servant to fetch you when supper is prepared. You will stay the night, won't you, my lord?"

Gisburne nodded silently, struck speechless by everything that was going on around him.

The Sheriff left as quietly as he had entered, gently shutting the door behind him. Gisburne sat down on the edge of the bed.

It had happened. It had actually happened. He had gone mad. He had never thought it would happen to him. Gisburne had always believed that, if anything, he was the sanest man he knew. He pictured some of the destitute beggars he had witnessed along roadsides, babbling and muttering to themselves about nothing, waving their arms wildly in the air...Gisburne cringed visibly at the thought of it.

How could this be happening to him? He placed a hand across his face and, for a time, lamented his misfortune. But his feelings of self pity didn't last long.

Guy looked up again and studied the elaborate furnishings around him. His troubled gaze became clear, and a grin slowly crept across his face. If this was madness, then why was he fighting it? Men were treating him with respect for once and he seemed to have power: real power.

Guy had always thought that madness would be something dark and terrifying, but this was rather pleasant. He rose from the bed feeling like a new man. He was a new man. He was a rich and powerful man named Guy of Huntingdon. It didn't matter if he was mad or not. What did he care about madness? He had money and power now and he was damned if anyone was going to stop him from using it!

He lifted his new clothing from the chair and began to get dressed. The sooner he put this madness of his to good use, the better, he decided.

  


* * * * 

  
Robin opened his eyes, blinking at the mist that had begun to envelop the trees. He had been sleeping so peacefully that he hadn't even noticed its approach. He rose to his feet and stretched. His hand rested momentarily on the tree, its roots having just served as his pillow. He walked through the mist that glided about his knees and headed towards the antlered figure who beckoned to him. Herne.

The forest god watched his son as he approached. Herne didn't speak until Robin was close enough for him to discern his face and know the thoughts that pressed his mind. Robin waited too, waited for the prophecy Herne would expect him to fulfill.

"The Wheel has turned and another time is upon us. It is a time where you control your own destiny, a time where you control both beginning and end."

"But how? How does it end?"

"Only you can decide that. I cannot guide you. I am blind. Darkness has covered my eyes. Only you can see now."

"Is there nothing you can tell me, then?"

"I can tell you this, Robin. You cannot follow the path to destiny until you have resolved the present and past. You must face them both and conquer them. Only then will the path be free for you to follow."

"But what must I do?"

"Together they must be. Together to be free...Brother must aid brother before the Wheel shall turn. When it is done, you will come to me, to a place and time of our knowing..."

"What place and time? How will I know?"

"You will know; you have always known..." said Herne. Then, he was gone.

Robin woke, feeling stiffness and pain in his muscles and joints. He stood and stretched, gazing up at the fading light of the late afternoon sky.

"My path begins in Nottingham."

  


* * * * 

  
"Nottingham?" Loxley turned his head towards the young lord in interest. "Why?" he asked, more curious than suspicious.

"I'm going to find Guy and try to speak to him again."

"Is that wise?" said Loxley, remembering the dramatic escape Guy had made from Sherwood the last time Robin had tried to speak to him.

"No, but it's necessary. He could be in trouble," replied Robin, as if hoping to justify his reasons for going. Marion's ears pricked up at the word "trouble" but she didn't look at Robin.

"Trouble?" questioned Loxley. "What kind of trouble?"

"With Guy? It could be all kinds." Robin looked at Marion to ascertain this, forgetting, for a moment, that she didn't share a knowledge of Gisburne's vast history of incompetencies. He frowned when he remembered and went to fetch his horse.

Marion began to grow fearful. Why had Robert of Huntingdon looked at her when he had spoken of his brother being in trouble? Did he know? Surely he could have no idea and, yet, he could find out. He might figure out everything, especially if he was going to speak with his brother again...She had to leave Sherwood while she still could. If Robert of Huntingdon found out about her plans, she would be the one in _all sorts of trouble_.

She looked at her servants, John and Nasir, and they read the intent in her eyes. Soon they too would be leaving Sherwood and returning to Belleme Castle.

  


* * * * 

  
It was rather late when Robin entered the castle, but he had the feeling that Gisburne wasn't sleeping at the moment. Robin headed for the great hall, assuming that, if anywhere, Gisburne would be there. He was right.

Gisburne laid half-sprawled across the raised chair and table, his legs crossed comfortably in front of him in a rather good imitation of the Sheriff. Robin walked into the hall, unnoticed, which was odd considering that Gisburne was alone. The very nervous and tired servants had finally left Guy to himself.

The Sheriff had managed to escape to his bed about an hour ago. He had listened to all he could bear on the subject of horses, armour and tournaments. The Sheriff had left the hall in great puzzlement. He hadn't been able to understand why an earl's son should be interested in subjects that usually concerned only the most common knights.

Guy hadn't even thought of that being unusual at the time. He had been having far too much fun forcing de Rainault to listen to him as he spoke about some of the things that bored and irritated the Sheriff most. And the Sheriff had had to sit patiently and attentively through it all because he couldn't possibly be rude to an earl's son. It had been glorious!

Gisburne had already begun to plan what subjects he could torture de Rainault with tomorrow. Maybe he could discuss falconry or his opinion on the upcoming war in Wales. Or maybe even Robin Hood. Robin Hood...

"Gisburne!" hissed a voice, breaking through the knight's pleasant reverie.

"Hmm...?" muttered Guy, glancing down to see who had dared to disturb him. "Robin Hood!" He almost dropped the wine cup that was nestled so nicely in his hand.

"You're drunk."

"Am I? I only had a few drinks to celebrate."

"Celebrate what?"

"My madness, Wolfshead. I'm celebrating my madness. To my madness," toasted Gisburne, raising his cup. "Sit down and join me. You probably drove me to it."

So this was how Gisburne was accepting the situation. He had made the decision that he had gone mad. It didn't seem like such a bad notion, really. Robin knew that he had been tempted to think that himself at first.

"You're not mad, Gisburne," stated Robin. "At least, not mad enough to think up all this. You're drunk."

"For more than a day?" demanded the knight. "No, that's impossible. Besides, I could never be so drunk as to see the Sheriff purposely ingratiating himself before me."

"He thinks you're Guy of Huntingdon."

"And so does everyone else from what I've seen!" cried Gisburne.

"Then how can you be the one who's mad? You know you're not Guy of Huntingdon. I know you're not Guy of Huntingdon."

"So what does that prove? That a whole town's gone mad?"

"No one has gone mad. Rhiannon's Wheel has turned and we're in a different--"

Gisburne started to laugh audibly. "You're talking about a bunch of old stones turning and you think no one here has gone mad?" Gisburne pushed the wine jug across the table towards Robin. "Here. Take it. You need it more than I do." Robin pushed it back. Gisburne started to laugh again. He sat down in the Sheriff's chair, folding his hands neatly on the table. "Why have you come here, Wolfshead? What do you want?"

"We need to talk."

"Again?"

"You left earlier before I could finish."

"Yes, well, I'm sitting down _now_, so you can go ahead." Gisburne sniggered at his own meagre attempt at humour. This was going to be a little harder than Robin had first anticipated.

"I need your help, Gisburne," muttered the outlaw.

"Pardon me?" asked Guy.

"I need your help," repeated Robin. "And you need mine."

"Oh, do I? And why is that?"

"Because unless we help each other, we're going to be trapped in this time forever and we'll never be able to return to our time again."

"Oh, Lord, not that again!" implored Gisburne. "Wolfshead, why don't you find someone else to bother? The Sheriff's gone to bed, but I'm sure if you were to wake him he'd talk for hours!" Gisburne yawned, his hours of drinking beginning to catch up with him. Robin yawned too, thinking about how amazing it was that Gisburne could remain just as unpleasant drunk as sober.

"All right," said Robin, trying another tactic, "even if you don't believe that we're in a different time, you must see that everything around you has changed. And," he said quickly, before Gisburne could open his mouth, "it isn't because you've gone mad. That would mean that I had gone mad as well and I don't believe that."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that this isn't right. We have to change things back to the way they were."

"Whatever for?"

"What do you mean 'whatever for'?"

Gisburne folded his arms and sat back. "If, as you claim, everything has changed, then why should you wish to interfere with it? Perhaps, it has changed for a reason."

"Yes, but not for the right one. The Wheel turned when it wasn't meant to turn. None of this is right."

"And how do you know that?"

"You just have to look around you to see that. It isn't right. Nothing here is right!"

"Everything looks fine to me. In fact, everything looks perfect."

"But it isn't _right_," persisted Robin.

"So?" asked Gisburne irritably. "What does that matter?"

"You and I don't belong here. This isn't our time."

Gisburne fidgeted in his chair, looking away from Robin for a moment in exasperation. "How do you know that? Maybe, Wolfshead, it is. Just because you think that _you_ don't belong here, doesn't mean that I don't! Who are you to judge any of this? Do you think I'm going to listen to you because you're some pagan forest god's son? What gives you the right to decide anything?"

"I don't have that right, but I understand what is happening here and I know that it's wrong."

"You don't understand anything, Wolfshead! And I don't understand you! Why would you want to change things back to the way they were? You're free of them. You're free of those cutthroats. You're practically a pardoned man. The Sheriff thinks that you're Robert of Huntingdon again!"

"And that you're my brother."

"Yes, well, what he and everyone else is stupid enough to believe is hardly my concern. The whole notion is absurd! However, although my ambition was to be High Sheriff of Nottingham, I suppose I could settle for being an earl's son."

"This isn't a game, Gisburne," said Robin.

"But that's where you're wrong again, Wolfshead. Everything is a game. Life is a game. You either win the game or lose it."

"I see. Is that why you're afraid to go back? Because you lost?"

Gisburne pushed back his chair and stood up. "I didn't lose! He cheated!"

"Then why don't you go back and tell the truth about what happened?"

"I did, you idiot, and they still believed the Sheriff! Why do you think they tried to have me executed? If I go back there, I'm a dead man!"

"But you're already a dead man here!" protested Robin. "Guy of Huntingdon was killed, remember."

"Well, I'd rather be a rich dead man than a poor one!"

"What's the difference? If you're dead, you're dead!"

"I'm not dead!" Gisburne snapped. "I don't feel dead at all, Wolfshead! Besides, why should you care either way what I do? Why wouldn't you want me to be dead in this time, when you want me dead in the other time...?" Gisburne paused. "What am I saying? There is no other time!"

"So you're mad, then."

"Not as mad as you, Wolfshead." Gisburne sat down again. "I know why you want to deny all of this," he said, his words slightly slurred.

"And why is that?"

"Because you're afraid that you might lose Marion to Loxley. Isn't that right?" Gisburne had hit the target.

"That has nothing to do with it!" yelled Robin.

"Oh, doesn't it? The only reason you joined that group of scum was because of her."

"That's not true!"

"Isn't it?"

"I joined because I wanted to fight against tyranny and bring justice to the people: something you wouldn't understand, Gisburne," replied Robin in fury.

"What I don't understand is why an earl's son would give up his land, fortune and title to join a bunch of cutthroats, unless it was for her. Though why you should think it was worth it--"

"You've never cared about anyone in your life, have you? I don't even think you've ever cared about yourself! You're so heartless, cruel and arrogant! If you're going to drink to something, drink to that!" Robin thumped the wine jug down in front of Gisburne. He started to walk away, adding, "I'd watch my back if I were you."

"Is that a threat?" said Gisburne.

"Not from me," stated Robin, who promptly left the hall.

Gisburne poured himself another drink. "To being heartless, cruel and arrogant then," he toasted. He raised the cup to his lips, draining it of every last red drop.

"Guy," said a voice.

The knight glanced down and saw a skinny bald-headed man before him. Gulnar grinned and this time the wine cup did fall from Gisburne's hand.

  


* * * * 

  
The clatter of the cup as it hit the table wasn't even heard by Gisburne, though Gulnar noted it and clapped. He slinked towards the knight, coming quite close. Gisburne flinched unwillingly and moved back.

"Do you fear me?" questioned Gulnar.

"No," said Gisburne, though his voice shook a little.

Gulnar slithered away from the table, but made sure to keep Gisburne within the range of his fire.

"What do you want here?" asked Gisburne, who suddenly felt terribly sober again. "Why have you come here?"

"I came in search of you, my lord."

"Me?" said Gisburne, rather tremulously. He cleared his throat and did what he could to disguise his fear. "I thought you spent your time with witches and harlots, not knights, er...or earl's sons," he proclaimed with forced bravado.

Gulnar sneered. "Earl's son? You're not an earl's son."

"What do you mean?" asked Gisburne, who had just assumed that the sorceror was as ignorant of his true identity as everyone else.

"I know exactly who and what you are," said Gulnar. "As I should. I brought you here."

"Brought me? Oh, yes, are you still pretending to have brought me back from the dead? I'm not sure who's most mad: you, Marion, that wolfshead, or me for listening to any of you!"

"It is you, Guy. Not because you are listening, but because you are not hearing any of us. I did bring you back from the dead. Marion had nothing to do with it. She thought that we were bringing back Guy of Huntingdon, but we both know differently, don't we, Gisburne?"

Gisburne felt a cold iron grip inside of him at the sound of his real name coming from Gulnar's lips. "So he was lying...This isn't a different time! You wouldn't have known my real name if it were!"

"Why should I persist in calling you by a name that isn't yours?"

"Indeed," agreed Gisburne.

"And why should I allow you to remain free when you are, and always shall be, my servant."

The iron grip tightened. "What?"

"I am your master, Guy of Gisburne. You are mine."

"I'm a free man," protested the knight. "I don't belong to anyone."

"You are nothing more than a slave now, Gisburne. You are a slave because you possess nothing here. You are only possessed. Even your own body is not yours. It belongs to another."

"That's nonsense!" gasped Gisburne. "You don't know what you're saying!"

"I know," hissed Gulnar. He glided back to Gisburne, a sharp bony finger digging into the knight's chest. Gisburne felt his breath catch in his throat and, for a moment, thought he might choke. The sorcerer glared up at Gisburne and, although the knight towered over him, Gulnar was not the one to feel dwarfed. "I know," continued Gulnar, in the same serpent's drawl. "I saw your time. I know who you really are. I know that your true body lies across an executioner's block!" The finger dug painfully deeper into Gisburne's chest. "I know that you betrayed me."

"Betrayed you?" whispered Gisburne.

"Yes. And you betrayed Fenris. You broke faith with us. You only joined us to save yourself. You never had any true allegiance to us."

Gisburne squirmed, trying to escape from the sorcerer's grip.

"I saw my death," stated Gulnar, holding tighter. "The death you helped bring upon me!" Gisburne tried to back away. "Are you repulsed by me, or the fact that I know the truth?"

"I didn't kill you!"

"Then how did you know I was dead? How were you so certain that I was dead?"

"I didn't kill you!"

"You owe your life to me because you took mine away. You took mine away when I worked with that stupid wench, Lilith, to bring yours back! Do you wish to hear about it?"

Gisburne shook his head.

"I said do you want to hear about it?" repeated Gulnar.

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say!"

Gulnar flattened his hand against the knight's chest and pushed him into the Sheriff's chair with a force that Gisburne couldn't remember experiencing with even his strongest opponents. He looked up at Gulnar with all the stunned wonder a child might possess towards a bully.

Gulnar began to tell Gisburne everything about the previous night's adventures. Gulnar told him about his pact with Marion, Guy of Huntingdon's death, and the ritual they had used to resurrect Guy of Huntingdon from the dead. But, this time, Gulnar included those details he had kept from Marion and Lilith about the slip of parchment he had pushed into Guy's mouth. This slip of parchment had contained the spell to transport Gisburne's soul to this time and into Guy of Huntingdon's body. Like Gulnar's man of clay, it had turned a dead body into a living one.

And Gulnar didn't stop there. He told Guy about Marion's plans for him to become leader of the Lords of Darkness and head servant to the demon Azael.

"But when they finish with you," said Gulnar, "your body will not be sacrificed to Azael. It will be sacrificed to Fenris."

"No!" shouted Gisburne. "You're insane! I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"You belong to me. I am your master. I control you body and soul. You will obey me."

"I won't obey you! You can't make me do anything!"

"Oh, can't I?" asked Gulnar and he gave a wicked smile.

  


* * * * 

  


** Chapter Seven **

  
"Where's Marion?" asked Robin, when he entered the camp and found she wasn't there.

"She disappeared after you left for Nottingham," said Tuck. "We haven't seen her since."

Robin looked around anxiously. "Disappeared?"

"Rode off more likely," answered one of the outlaws. "Her men aren't here and the horses are gone."

"I'd better go find her," said Robin.

"But you've just ridden to Nottingham and back," cried Tuck. "You must be exhausted."

"I'm all right, but if she's really disappeared I must find her. She could be hurt or in danger."

"My lord, I'm sure she's fine."

"Come and sit by the fire," suggested Much, trying to be helpful. He filled a bowl with delicious smelling broth. Robin's stomach stirred zealously in response, but his heart remained aloof.

"My lord?" prodded Tuck.

"She's safe," said Loxley, who had woken from a light and feverish sleep. "I saw her go. She was heading back to her castle. You can leave at first light to find her."

"Sit down and eat," persisted Much, holding out the bowl of hot broth.

Robin sighed and surrendered, allowing his weariness to envelop him like a blanket. He settled between Much and Tuck and gratefully sipped his broth.

"How did things go with your brother?" asked Tuck. "Did you manage to speak with him?"

"Yes, but I could have saved a journey, as well as my breath," replied Robin, tossing a twig into the fire. "Talking to him is pointless. He won't listen to anyone."

  


* * * * 

  
Even before he opened his eyes, he knew that she was standing there in front of him, studying his manacled hands, gaining satisfaction from his helplessness.

"You stupid whore," said Gisburne, lifting his head and the lids of his eyes to see her. Marion only blinked and stepped back a bit from the prisoner chained against the wall.

Gulnar came into Gisburne's line of vision and grinned grotesquely.  
"Surely that is no way to speak to the woman who is to become your bride?"

"I'd sooner marry my horse!" Gisburne growled.

"Unfortunately, that cannot be arranged," snapped the sorcerer. Gulnar walked away, but Marion remained where she was, still and silent.

"What are you going to do to me?" asked Gisburne. His question was directed at Marion, but it was Gulnar who answered.

"Don't you remember? I told you all about it last night."

"But you couldn't have actually meant it."

"Couldn't I?" Gulnar started to laugh.

Gisburne looked back at Marion, who still hadn't moved or said a word.  
"Who are you?" he said.

"My lord?"

"You're not Marion of Leaford. Who are you?"

"I don't understand."

"You understand. You understand perfectly. Just tell me. Who are you?"

"Enough!" cried Gulnar shrilly. He took Marion by the elbow and guided her away. "Let me take care of him, my lady," he purred.

Marion saw a startled flash in Gisburne's eyes before he managed to bow his head again to hide it. "What will you do to him?" she asked, sounding somewhat hesitant.

"Don't you trust me?"

"No. I don't trust anyone."

Gulnar gave a quiet chuckle. "Neither do I." He went up to Gisburne and lifted his head by the chin. "Look at him," he hissed. "He's terrified of us both and yet too strong-willed to obey us. We must break that will, Marion, and there is only one way to do it. You cannot break a man's will until you have first taken possession of his soul." Gulnar gazed into the eyes before him that burned with so much hatred. But there was fear as well. It intensified as Gulnar lifted his favourite weapon, the treasured skull, and put it up to Gisburne's face. Gisburne instinctively tried to snap his head away, but a bony claw forced it back. The sorcerer's eyes bore into his and Gisburne fought to break free of the hypnotic spell...

Guy was suddenly thrown into a void of darkness and free of his chains, floating lifeless towards a lighted door. It slowly opened and he felt himself being hurled through it. Then, his feet seemed to touch the ground again and he was walking down a corridor. It was dark and he did not want to pass through it, but the force that had placed him there was pushing him forward. He reached a large empty room and experienced a sense of recognition. Had he not seen this room before?

He heard a noise and turned to see a set of stairs. Blocking the stairs was a pair of hounds and a little boy who sat on the third step. He laughed as he stroked one dog and allowed the second to lick his face.

_Where am I? What is this place?_ Guy tried to speak aloud, but the words couldn't escape from his mouth. He heard the creak of wood and whirled around again. An empty cradle rocked as if by its own volition. It was covered by dust and cobwebs. It was cracked down the middle as if it had been struck. The boy's laughter stopped abruptly.

The angered shouts of a man and woman arguing flooded into the room. The man's voice was harsh and unrelenting. It seemed to surge through the wall with the force of a battering ram.

The woman's voice came close to holding equal force. But then she was screaming and screaming as if she would never stop. Then, it was quiet, and Gisburne could only hear the woman weeping. The boy started to laugh again, but it was in a mocking fashion. The hounds growled and backed away.

_What are you laughing at? Why are you laughing? He's hurting her! Can't you see that?_

The boy looked up at him and smiled, a blue-black bruise marking the side of his face. Guy stared at him in horror. The eyes looking up at him were his own.

  


* * * * 

  
"No!" cried the voice.

Robin gave a start. It was the first real sound of life he had heard since he had entered the castle. He moved towards the voice, remembering its note of urgency and terror. He prayed that Marion was not victim of the same predator as the voice.

Robin rushed down a dark corridor and up a set of stairs, ignoring the evil presence that seemed to pervade the air around him. With some effort, he managed to find his way to the chamber he was seeking. He gazed into it in surprise.

His eyes first fell on Marion, then Gulnar, then what appeared to be Gisburne chained and manacled to the wall. Robin's eyes darted back to Gulnar, who had begun a rendition of his usual hideous laughter. Then, in an instant, Gulnar was gone, disappearing out of an alternate door and down another staircase.

"Don't just stand there, you idiot!" Robin heard Gisburne shout. "Go after him...Kill him!"

Robin ignored Gisburne's advice, knowing that such a course would be useless at this point. He noticed the skull on the floor. He recognized it immediately and understood. Only recently, he too had been the victim of one of Gulnar's hypnotic spells.

Robin walked towards Gisburne and stood directly in front of him. "What did you see?" he demanded.

"Nothing!" hissed the knight, almost savagely. He jerked his hand away as Robin tried to examine the manacle.

"Relax," said Robin, deciding to let his question rest. "I'm trying to help you for once." He heard something clatter and looked at Marion, who had wordlessly dropped the key on the ground. "Marion?"

Marion turned and quickly fled from the room. Robin picked up the key, but instead of releasing the knight from his bonds, he went off in pursuit of the Baroness.

"Wolfshead!" yelled Gisburne, straining against his chains. "Wolfshead!" Robin heard Gisburne's voice echo down the stairs after him, but kept going, following Marion as she headed for the crypt. Again, the same penetrating force of evil seemed to linger around him and prevent him from moving forward. Robin battled against it fiercely, fighting back the compulsion to turn around and flee from the morbid charms Belleme Castle had to offer.

He shook the feelings of fear and apprehension away and urged himself to go on. The sound of his own footfalls rang in his ears as he came upon the eery silence of the dark crypt. Robin ventured in cautiously, observing Belleme's magical paraphernalia as he did so. Then, he saw the stone coffin that held Simon de Belleme's body. His widow was weeping beneath the huge iron pentacle nailed to the wall.

Marion heard Robin approach, but she did not lift her head until he sat beside her and touched her gently on the shoulder. "Keep away from me," she said, shrinking from Robin's hand. Tears streaked down her pale face and Robin lifted his fingers to smooth them away. "I told you to keep away! Keep away!"

"Not until you tell me what happened. What is going on here, Marion?"

"I can't!" cried Marion. "I can't tell you. You'll want to kill me...They'll kill...I'm already dead!"

Robin grabbed Marion by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. "Who? Marion, who is going to kill you?"

"Azael and the Lords of Darkness," whispered Marion, as if fearing they might hear the words. Robin's hands dropped from her shoulders.

"What do you mean? Why should they want to kill you?"

Marion shook her head and turned abruptly. "I can't...I can't tell you..." she whispered again.

"You must. I have to know." Then, in a softer tone, Robin said, "I could never hurt you, Marion."

Marion looked back at Robin for a moment and read the look of tenderness and concern in his eyes. She started to cry again. Robin put his arm around her shaking form and pulled her towards him, holding her as she wept against him.

He held Marion for a long time, thinking about how good it felt to have her in his arms again. He gingerly stroked the curly locks of her hair. Finally, the well of tears subsided. Marion pulled herself away and tried to poise herself in a more dignified position. She folded her trembling hands in the creases of her dress and, as she eyed Robin again, her back was straight and she sat up tall.

"Marion," prompted Robin.

"I know," said Marion. She pulled the tattered remains of pride and courage around her and began.

"When I married Simon de Belleme, I was just a girl, but even then I understood the strength of his evil and the power wielded by the devils he chose to worship. I tried to resist them, but they were too strong..." Her voice faltered for a moment. Then, she swallowed her fear and continued.

"When he died, I was left alone with...with them. What they demanded of me I could not refuse. I tried, but they were so powerful and I...I was so afraid...I wanted to leave from this place, to get away." Marion sounded almost wistful. Then she looked around her, and Robin thought he saw her shudder.

"Even if I could have left this place, where would I have gone? Who would have taken me in after I had been _his_ wife?" Marion forced a smile. "Why would they have let me escape? They would have killed me...

"One day," continued Marion, after a long shaky pause, "they wanted more than I could give them. They wanted a lord to take my husband...Simon's place. But they wanted a lord who was more powerful than he had ever been. They wanted a king! They wanted someone to reign over the people, but someone who would reign over them with force and terror. They wanted to spread evil and chaos everywhere. To destroy everything in their path. They wanted slaves, not subjects. Slaves to worship them, slaves to control, slaves to be sacrificed in their honour...slaves to satisfy their hunger. Absolute power is what Azael and the Lords of Darkness wanted. They still want it...

"I couldn't find them a king, but I found them a lord who was both young and powerful. I found someone who would have power over the people and be able to gain worshippers...victims for Azael. But I didn't know if Azael would gain a victim out of him.

"I knew of only one way to make a worshipper out of such a lord. I would have to trap him the same way Simon trapped me...I would have to make him marry me..." Marion bowed her head, her cheeks burning with shame.

Robin took Marion's hand. "It's all right," he said, and Marion seemed to take comfort in the strength Robin squeezed into her hand.

"I had found my lord," Marion began again, "and all I had to do was win him over. But I didn't want to use sorcery or try to possess him. I didn't want him to suffer the way I was made to suffer...I wanted to win him fairly...to make him love me if it was possible...I might have succeeded...I could have succeeded if--"

"If Guy hadn't been killed by Owen of Clun," said Robin, who had slowly and unwillingly started to figure things out.

Marion nodded helplessly. "I know that you must hate me, but you don't understand--"

"You're right," replied Robin coldly. "I don't understand. Tell me more. How did you meet up with Gulnar. Was he a part of all this?"

"Yes, but not at first. Not until the night of the feast. The night Guy...I did not know him before then."

"What happened?"

"The hall had been crowded and I needed air and a place to think. He followed me out into the courtyard and confronted me, claiming he knew all about my plans. At first, I thought he was lying, but when he started to speak of Azael and the Lords of Darkness, and told me that he knew I was trying to marry your brother, I had to accept that he was telling me the truth.

"We made a pact. He said he would help me if I could convince your brother to allow Margaret to marry his master and spare the house of Clun when Azael and the Lords of Darkness came to power. But everything went wrong..." Marion looked down at the floor and waited for the question she knew Robin would ask. It was the same question that had been nagging in his mind since yesterday in Sherwood.

"Guy," said Robin. "He was dead. We both saw him die. How is it that he came back to life again?"

Marion hesitated, wondering whether she truly wished to answer Robin or not. He would find out soon enough from his brother. Gulnar had told Guy of Huntingdon everything. But this man, Robert, had been so kind to her. He deserved to hear the truth from her lips. "When Guy died, I was terrified. I didn't know what to do now that the lord I promised Azael was dead. Gulnar came to me again. I accused him of betraying me and again he promised to help. He said we could bring him back..."

"Back?"

"From the dead," replied Marion.

For the first time, Robin carefully scrutinized the crypt. He saw the rings painted on the floor and the guttered wax of the black candles that had toppled. Then, he could hear Gulnar's maniacal laugh as if the sorcerer himself were standing beside him. He looked back at Marion, who had followed his gaze.

"He had stolen Herne the Hunter's arrow," said Marion, as if that would explain everything. It was enough, at least, to capture Robin's attention instantly.

"The Arrow? Gulnar took the Silver Arrow?"

"You know of it?" asked Marion in surprise.

"Yes. I know it well. Where is it, Marion? Does Gulnar still have it?"

Marion nodded her head sadly.

"We must get it back."

"_We_?"

"Yes. Gulnar will only use it to cause harm." Robin looked back at the ring and candles, remembering what Marion was trying to tell him. "He already has caused harm with it, hasn't he?"

"I wouldn't have thought you'd call it harm," answered Marion defensively. "We used it to save your brother...or the man I thought was your brother," she added in a whisper. "Gulnar summoned Lilith, who knew the spell needed to conjure his spirit back to life."

"And what did Gulnar do?"

"Do? I don't know what he did. I don't think he did anything..." Marion froze as if she had just remembered something.

"What is it?" asked Robin, reading Marion's puzzled gaze.

"He had a bit of paper with some kind of writing...magical symbols written across it..." Marion rose from the ground and looked around the crypt. She returned shortly and knelt beside Robin, holding the parchment before his eyes. Robin studied it closely, trying to remember where he had seen it before.

"Gulnar had this in his hands," said Marion, "and when I tried to look at it, he hid it away. When your brother...when he..."

"Came back to life?" asked Robin in amusement.

"Yes. When he came back, he did the most surprising thing. He spit something out of his mouth. It was this piece of paper."

"He had this in his mouth...?" said Robin in amazement. Then he gave a start as he looked carefully at the paper again. Surely, it was the same kind of parchment Gulnar had scrawled another spell on, one that Robin was familiar with: the spell Gulnar had used to bring his demonic clay beast to life. Gulnar had rolled up the spell-bound strip of parchment and popped it into the clay being's mouth...

Had he used Guy of Huntingdon's body as a man of clay? Was the fact that Gisburne had appeared an accident, or had it been a deliberate part of Gulnar's spell?

"When Gulnar disappeared just now, where did he go?"

"I don't know...Back to his master?"

"Yes," murmured Robin. "We've got to go after him. He's got the Arrow and Clun has Margaret. We might still be able to save them both." He stood up, expecting Marion to follow suit. But, if possible, she shrank even further into the shadows of the wall. "I want to help you, Marion, but I can't unless you help me as well."

Marion stared at Robin and he saw terror cross her face again. "You can't help me!" she shouted. "No one can help me!"

"No one can help you because you won't let them," said Robin.

Marion placed her head in shaking hands. "You don't understand. They'll kill me now."

"No one's going to kill you. They have no power over you anymore. They can't hurt you unless you let them. Marion, any bond you had with them is broken."

"No," moaned Marion, "it will never be broken." She lifted her hands before her face, her eyes fixing themselves upon the monstrous wedding band that bore down on her finger.

Robin saw it too. He grasped hold of Marion's hand and wrenched the ring off. He threw it to the ground and crushed it beneath his boot. "There. Your bond is broken now. It's been broken since Belleme died. You just haven't seen it."

"No! It's not as simple as that! The ring means nothing! I would have destroyed it myself if it had!"

"Then why keep it if it meant nothing?"

"Because I am still his wife. I am Marion de--"

"You're Marion of Leaford! You were never his wife...not in your heart."

Marion glared up at Robin. "What do you know of my heart?" she demanded fiercely.

"I know it well enough to be certain that you could never be in love with a man as evil as Belleme," answered Robin.

Marion shook her head. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because I want to help you, Marion!"

"I don't need your help!" cried Marion, trying to stop her voice from shaking. Robin went down on his haunches, and Marion turned her head away.

"If I can't help you," said Robin quietly, "then perhaps you can help me."

"Help you? How could I possibly help you?"

"My sister has been taken by Owen of Clun. You might be able to help me save her."

"_Me_?" She turned her head back, seemingly stunned by such a notion.

Robin took Marion's hand. "Yes, Marion. You." He rose to his feet, pulling Marion with him.

Marion studied Robin in confusion, remaining silent for a long time. "Why...why would you trust me? Your brother hates me--"

"Don't worry about him," said Robin, tossing an indignant glance back towards the stairwell.

"But he's your brother!"

"Yes," murmured Robin without enthusiasm. "I had better go speak with him." He walked to the stairs then stopped. "Marion--?"

"Go see your brother. I'll be here when you return." Marion was standing tall and straight like a statue, but life seemed to have filled her eyes again.

  


* * * * 

  
Robin practically mounted the stairs two at a time. He knew that the situation with Gisburne wasn't going to be easy, but it hardly seemed to matter when he thought of Marion being free once more. However, when Robin entered the room he still regarded the knight with stony eyes. Guy stared back at the outlaw with the same lifeless glance.

"I want out," stated Gisburne quietly.

"I know," replied Robin. "I've got the key."

"No," said Gisburne. "I want out of this place...this...this time."

Robin moved closer, surprised. "What are you saying, Gisburne?" The knight hung his head for a few moments, trying to find the words. Robin decided to be merciful. "Are you saying that you finally believe me and that you're willing to help?" There was a long pause. "Gisburne?"

"If it means getting out of this time, I'll..." Gisburne swallowed, finding it impossible to say the actual word. "I'll do whatever it takes to get out of here, Wolfshead. I don't care what." He looked up and Robin saw a distant flash of emotion behind Gisburne's eyes before the usual shields dropped down. Robin unlocked the chains, steadying the knight until Gisburne found the use of his legs again.

Gisburne paced around the room, attempting to release the pain from his cramped muscles. At least, that's what Robin thought at first.

"What must I do?" asked Gisburne, taking a quick stride past the outlaw.

"Whatever it takes to get out of this time," was Robin's answer.

"And what is that?"

"We have to resolve the problems in this time and try to set things right."

"And how do we do that?" said Gisburne, pacing past Robin once more.

"We have to try to get Loxley's band back together again."

"Yes, all right," agreed Gisburne, who wasn't really listening.

"And we must get the Silver Arrow back."

"Of course," said Gisburne, though his tone was noncommittal. More than anything, he just wanted to get out of Belleme Castle! He did another circuit of the room, which only seemed to make him more restless. Robin continued nevertheless.

"First, I think that we should start making plans to rescue Margaret."

Gisburne stopped dead. "Margaret?"

"Our sister, remember?"

Gisburne looked confused.

"She was taken by Owen of Clun on the night of the feast. I told you all about it."

"What? Oh...yes. I remember..." Margaret was a common enough name. There were probably dozens of women named Margaret. The fact that this so-called sister of his had the same name as his mother was purely a coincidence...wasn't it?

Robin thought he saw the same look pass beneath Gisburne's eyes before Gisburne quickly shoved the thought from his mind.

"So we rescue this woman," stated Guy at last.

"Margaret. And we find the Silver Arrow and try to get my friends back together again."

"And that will set things right?"

"I hope so. Yes."

"You hope? I thought you would know."

"We can't be certain about anything in this time. Hope is all we've got. We can only hope--"

"Hope?" Gisburne did not seem very pleased by this verdict. "What use has hope ever been to anyone? You either know something, or you don't."

"I know that I want out of this time, and if hope is the only thing I have, I'll go with it," said Robin earnestly. The knight gave no response. "Look, Gisburne, I don't like this anymore than you do. I hate it. Do you think I actually like the thought of working with you?"

"Working with me?" Gisburne exclaimed. "I have to work with you! I have to join sides with a wolfshead!"

"It's Robert of Huntingdon. I'm not a 'wolfshead' in this time."

"A wolfshead is a wolfshead no matter what!" Gisburne walked across the room again and regarded his enemy from its shadows. But it was Robin who had the questions.

"You don't trust me, yet you're willing to help me," said Robin. "Why?"

"I don't seem to have much of a choice."

"You always have a choice."

"Not this time." Gisburne took a step from the shadows. "You don't trust me either, Wolfshead. Admit it."

"Why? What is there to admit? We both know it's true. It's so true that I'm not sure that we can possibly be on the same side without killing each other."

"You said you needed my help," Gisburne reminded Robin smugly.

"Perhaps I was wrong."

"And travel all the way to Nottingham to ask me? I don't think so, Wolfshead. You do need my help." Gisburne almost seemed to take satisfaction in this knowledge.

"You're forgetting something, Guy. Something very important. You need my help too."

"Then we're even," admitted Gisburne grimly.

"No," replied Robin. "We'll never be that." There was a long, uneasy pause. "Are you really willing to help me?"

"No, I don't want to help you, but I already told you I don't have a choice."

"No choice that I can see, but..."

"What?"

"We have to settle some things before we do anything."

"What is there to settle?"

"A lot. First of all, you're Guy of Huntingdon now."

"No, I'm not. You can tell them who I really am. Tell them I'm Guy of Gisburne."

"I can't. Guy of Gisburne doesn't exist here."

"He does now."

"No, he doesn't. No one has ever heard of him. Everyone thinks you're Guy of Huntingdon and everyone thinks we're brothers. That means we have to get along, or at least pretend that we don't hate each other, which is going to be hard."

"Very hard," grumbled Gisburne.

"Do you think we can do it?"

Gisburne didn't answer, but since he didn't disagree either Robin continued.

"If we pretend to be brothers, I've got to stop calling you 'Gisburne' and you've got to stop calling me 'Wolfshead'. You can call me Robert, or...Robert. You can call me Robert."

"Yes, all right. I'm not an idiot. I understand that."

"Good."

"Is there anything else?"

"I don't know. Is there?"

"We have to pretend to be...We have to pretend not to hate one another and I can't call you 'Wolfshead'. What else can there be?"

"Well, you could try staying out of trouble and being good for once," suggested Robin.

Gisburne raised an eyebrow. "Good?" he snarled. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Robin sighed. "Perhaps I should have said 'good tempered'."

"What's wrong with my temper?" snapped Gisburne.

"Nothing. That's the trouble."

Gisburne opened his mouth then shut it, looking more confused than ever.

"I'll let you think about it for a bit," said Robin. "I have to get Marion." Robin had only taken one step towards the door when Gisburne's hand suddenly lashed out to grab him by the arm.

"Oh, no, you're not," stated the knight in what sounded like a warning.

"Oh really, Gisburne. And why is that?" Robin's voice carried a veiled threat of its own.

"I...I don't want anything to do with her...She's-she's mad!"

Robin narrowed his eyes shrewdly. "Don't tell me that you're actually afraid of one woman, Guy."

"I'm not afraid!"

"Good," said Robin cheerfully. "Then she comes with us." Once again, he made for the door and once again his arm was accosted by the knight's steely grip.

"Have you heard her? Have you actually _listened_ to her? The woman's a sorceress...and a devil worshipper! She thinks she's the Baroness de Belleme."

"She is...or was. She's Marion of Sherwood now and she's coming with us whether you can accept it or not. If you can't, then you don't have to come with us. You can stay here forever."

Gisburne detected a frighteningly serious note in Robin's voice and didn't like it one bit. "How do you know you can trust her?" asked Gisburne, though some of his previous confidence had disappeared.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"I...I don't know," answered Gisburne.

Robin shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know either, but at least you're telling the truth for once. That's something." Robin took a deep breath and extended his hand. "Let's call a truce."

"A what?" Gisburne looked alarmed.

"A truce. Peace. A promise to stop fighting. I know you've never made one, but you must have heard of it before."

"Yes, I know what a truce is!"

"Then let's form one. Just until we get out of this time, just until we're back where we belong again." Robin's hand remained extended. Gisburne stared at it a long time then, slowly and tentatively, held out his own hand. It wavered for a moment, and Robin grabbed it tightly before it had a chance to withdraw itself again. He shook it heartily and Gisburne fought to free himself from Robin's grasp. Robin grinned and thumped Gisburne's back, knowing that all of this had to be driving him to his wit's end.

"I'll get Marion and you can find us some horses," said Robin when he finally released Gisburne's hand.

"What do I look like to you? A stable boy?"

Robin put a finger to his chin and thought about it, tilting his head to one side. "Hmmm...perhaps not. I've seen much better looking stable boys than you before." Gisburne looked venemous and Robin began to retreat from the room, a hail of insults hitting his back. "Breaking our truce already?" he teased, turning at the doorway to face his new ally.

"Oh, shut up!" howled Gisburne miserably.

  


* * * * 

  
Robin met Marion at the foot of the stairs. She was waiting for him just as she had promised.

"We'll be leaving soon. I sent Guy to find us some horses."

"Did you tell him I would be coming with you?"

"Yes."

"And he agreed?"

"I managed to convince him."

"But he still hates me, doesn't he?"

"Well..."

"Oh, I shouldn't be coming!"

"But you are coming and it doesn't matter what Guy thinks or says."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! If anything, this is the one thing I've been sure about for days. You have to leave here and come with us. Promise me you will, Marion." She bit her bottom lip apprehensively, but agreed. Robin took her hand again. "Can you promise me something else, Marion?" he asked.

"Yes. If I can."

"I need you to free John and Nasir. They can't be your slaves any longer."

"As you wish," said Marion willingly. But then a shadow passed across her face. "I won't need servants anymore. Soon, I won't need anything..."

"Don't talk like that!" ordered Robin sharply. "They won't hurt you. I won't let anything hurt you."

Marion stared at Robin in surprise. "I still don't understand why you're helping me."

"Don't you?" Robin gently cupped Marion's face in his hands and kissed her. "Maybe one day you will." He slowly released her. "Come out when you're ready," he said, and Marion watched him walk away in wonder.

  


* * * * 

  
"Don't tell me she isn't coming!" exclaimed Gisburne, feigning disappointment as he saw Robin approach him alone.

"I would watch your tongue, brother dear, or Marion the sorceress might concoct a spell to take it out," said Robin. He inspected the horses as Gisburne tested to see if he could keep his mouth clamped shut. "Are these the best horses you could find?" teased Robin further.

"Yes, they were the only horses I could get," explained Gisburne with surprising calmness. "They were the only horses left, you idiot!"

"Really?" asked Robin, though he had already figured that out. They continued waiting for Marion in silence. They didn't have to wait long. She soon appeared outside the castle. Gisburne grumbled a series of curses under his breath. Robin went forward to greet her, his eyes confronting John and Nasir walking directly behind her. "I thought I asked you to--"

"I did," said Marion, with a toss of her shoulders. "They say they're coming with us."

Robin walked up to John and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You're free, John. You and Nasir aren't slaves anymore. You can go where you wish."

"I have no where to go, my lord," answered John, "and neither does Nasir. Do you, Nasir?"

The Saracen shook his head.

"Nay, my lord," said John. "Our place is with our lady."

Marion smiled, touched by their kindness and loyalty. Robin was touched as well, but he still had their overall welfare in mind.

"Are you sure about this?" asked Robin. "There could be danger. And if you join us, you will be made outlaws. Sometimes, there is little difference between the life of a slave and an outlaw, John."

"Outlaws are free," stated Marion.

"No one's free, my lady, but I'd rather be an outlaw all the same," replied John, and Nasir nodded his head in agreement.

Robin smiled. "Then you are most welcome to come with us and join Robin Hood's band if you wish it."

"Aye," said John, but then he looked concerned.

"What is it?" asked Robin.

John looked at Nasir and lowered his voice. "Do you think Robin Hood will want to take two old buggers like us?" He broke into a grin, and Marion and Nasir actually laughed.

Robin clapped him on the back. "Don't worry, John. You and Nasir will be perfect."

  


* * * * 

  


** Chapter Eight  **

  
It was a long and somewhat strained journey to Sherwood. Though Marion did her best to hide it, Robin could still see the fear that lay behind her eyes as she rode pale and tight-lipped beside him. She managed to give the wanest of smiles at Robin's attempts at conversation, but was afraid to let her guard down for an instant, lest she fall victim to the power of Azael and the Lords of Darkness.

It had taken courage to leave Belleme Castle and venture into the realm of Herne and his son. Robin admired her for it. He kept a respectful distance from her, allowing her the space she needed to nurse the wounds of her past. He hoped that, if the time came, she would come to him for comfort or help. That is, if she could learn to trust someone again and discover a way to share her emotions freely.

Gisburne, for all the protests he made about Marion, wasn't all that different from her. He too was wary and defensive. He did not speak a word to anyone as they travelled towards Sherwood. More than once, Robin thought he felt Gisburne's distrustful glare fall upon him. But, after all, Robin reasoned, Gisburne was riding into his enemy's lair, a place where he had never received a warm welcome.

The greetings he had received had been from behind the points of swords and arrows notched in longbows. Though the outlaws' form of hospitality could never compare to the dark cold pit of a dungeon that always remained at their disposal when they were invited to stay as guests at Nottingham Castle. Robin really couldn't understand what Gisburne had to complain about. However, Gisburne apparently did.

At the first sound of a bush rustling, Gisburne halted his horse and looked carefully through the trees on either side of him. Robin marvelled at the sharpened senses Gisburne seemed to have acquired. The knight had almost heard the outlaws' approach before he had. Their party dismounted as Much and two other men met them on the road.

"We're back," said Robin cheerfully, "and we've brought two new men to join your band." Robin drew Much's attention to John and Nasir, who Much  
studied with a mixture of fear and astonishment.

"I'll take you to Robin," suggested Much, and he and his two companions led the way to the camp.

  


* * * * 

  
"So you've returned," said Loxley, eyeing the group who had just entered the camp.

"Yes, if you'll have us," answered Robin. "We've brought two new men to join you."

"If you'll have us," replied John, stepping forward with Nasir.

Loxley studied them critically for a few moments. His eyes perused the two swords Nasir had strapped to his back and the quarterstaff John gripped comfortably in his hand. "How well can you fight?"

John took his turn to study the outlaw and the group of men who lounged around the fire, half-dozing after the large meal they had just eaten. "I reckon we fight well enough," said John.

"Then I shall have something to look forward to." Loxley smiled, accepting them both on the spot. Then, he turned to Marion. "What will you do without your servants, my lady?"

"They are not my servants anymore. They are free to do as they wish."

"And, you, my lady? Are you free to do as you wish?"

Marion swallowed painfully, but her gaze did not waver. "Yes," she answered. She walked over to the group by the fire and sat down, looking up at Loxley defiantly. She seemed to issue him a silent challenge. Loxley was very tempted to agree to that challenge, but he wasn't willing to carry it out. He felt it wasn't right for a woman to be a member of his group, but his heartstrings had been given a forceful tug and he knew he didn't want to lose her. Marion would be staying too.

Now everyone's attention was focused on Gisburne, as if they already knew where Robin's loyalties lay. Some of the outlaws grinned and nudged each other. The knight stood aloof, looking back at them coldly. The picture of them all leering at him, mocking everything he had chosen to believe in was almost unbearable. But what Gisburne couldn't stand was the look of conquest that seemed to linger in both Loxley's and Huntingdon's laughing eyes. Gisburne turned abruptly on his heel and strode out of the camp.

"Uh, Guy..." Robin called. But Guy wasn't going to have any of it. He disappeared deeper into the forest and out of sight.

"He's still not well," said Robin.

"Yes," replied Loxley, who didn't seem very surprised. They sat down and the group's merriment slowly began to fade. They sensed seriousness in Robert of Huntingdon's quiet manner. They started to settle down, waiting patiently for their new companion to speak.

"I have something to ask of all of you," said Robin. "I need your help. Two nights ago, my sister was kidnapped at a feast held at Nottingham Castle. The man who took her is a Marcher lord named Owen of Clun. He hopes that by marrying her, he will form an alliance with my father and win more power over the king, who wants access through his lands in order to attack the Welsh. I must find a way to get into his castle and save Margaret. There is no one else who can help me but you."

"And why should that matter to us?" asked one of the outlaws brashly.

"Because of the Arrow," answered Robin and Loxley together. They exchanged a surprised glance. This was something that Loxley hadn't realized until that very instant, and they both seemed to know it.

"The Silver Arrow has been taken as well," repeated Loxley. "We must get it back before its powers are used for evil."

"Yes," said Robin. "The man who took it – Gulnar - will only use its powers to harm others. He will feed its powers to the demons he worships...No good can ever come from a man like--" Robin stopped abruptly, turning quickly to Marion, whose recent predicament he had almost forgotten. "I'm sorry, Marion. I..." But she cut off his sentence graciously.

"No, there's nothing to be sorry about," replied Marion. "And you're right. Gulnar has learned the Arrow's powers. If he was able to steal it from Herne the Hunter, he'll certainly know how to use it."

"How can we fight a man like that?" asked one of the outlaws.

"We've gone against the Sheriff and his men dozens of times," said Much, trying to sound confident.

Loxley shook his head. "That's not enough. We have to discuss this some more and begin making plans." And, for the next few hours, that was what the outlaws of Sherwood did.

  


* * * * 

  
After arguing for some time about possible ways to break through Clun Castle's defences, Robin, Loxley, and the outlaws disbanded for the day, deciding to follow Tuck's lead and start fresh the next morning. This was sound advice considering the delicious aroma that had begun to waft through the camp, overpowering the hungry outlaws, whose stomachs suddenly took precedence over the plans and arguments in their heads. Even Gisburne managed to reappear in the camp, causing Robin to laugh.

"I should have known that even you would be able to find your way back here with smell of venison tempting your stomach."

"Hmmmph!" grumbled Gisburne. "Is that what that smell is?"

"Why don't you come and join us, Guy?" suggested Loxley, smiling sweetly.

"Yes, Guy," said Robin, grabbing Gisburne's arm and hauling him over to the fire. "We made a truce," Robin reminded him, pushing Gisburne down near the circle of outlaws.

Gisburne was able to hold his tongue with a great amount of will-power, but he still couldn't allow himself to get so close to his enemies. He tried to physically distance himself from the circle, which wasn't an easy task with both Robin and Loxley on either side of him.

Guy also refused to drink from the outlaws' communal cup and it seemed that there was no way they could entice him to eat venison.

"But, my lord, you must eat something," said Tuck anxiously.

"I'll not eat the King's meat," answered Gisburne stubbornly. Some of the men snickered and Loxley looked amused.

"We don't concern ourselves much with King John's losses here in Sherwood, my lord," said Loxley. "Take some meat."

"But he's the King," stated Gisburne emphatically.

"He tried to have you executed, remember?" whispered Robin.

Gisburne hesitated and his eyes narrowed. "I'll have part of that haunch there," Gisburne conceded cautiously.

"Good man," said Tuck, who was almost equally happy stuffing others with food as he was stuffing himself. Gisburne accepted his portion and was a little disheartened to discover that it actually tasted quite good. Not that he would be willing to admit it, of course.

The water was passed around the circle again and it ended up in Gisburne's hand. He was going to pass it on, but he heard Robin's voice beside his ear.

"Drink," said Robin. "You're going to have to some time."

But the cup still wavered in Guy's hand.

  


* * * * 

  
After nightfall, Robin noted that it hadn't taken long for the new members of Loxley's band to adjust to life in Sherwood. It was with some satisfaction, that he watched John, Nasir, and especially Marion, settle down to sleep. Robin decided that he had better check on Gisburne as well. He found him sitting at the outer edge of the camp, propped up against an oak tree.

"Here," said Robin, dumping a blanket of fur on the knight's lap, "you'll need this."

"Thank you," muttered Gisburne, who didn't sound at all grateful. He didn't even bother to look up.

"It might not even help," stated Robin. "You'll have some trouble sleeping, I think. It's not a bed in a castle."

"I know!" snapped Gisburne. "I am a soldier. I have slept outside a castle before and in worse conditions than this!"

"Really?" asked Robin, who actually sounded interested.

"Yes, in fields of battle, near bogs and swamps, in the rain, in the cold..."

"Well, then, you should sleep well here," said Robin. "You have nothing to fear. Nothing to fear except wild boars, adders..." Gisburne presented Robin with an open sign of contempt, and Robin left him with a cheerful "Good night!"

Gisburne pulled the fur up around him and managed to forget one very important memory from his great days as a soldier: he had spent many of his nights under the shelter of a tent.

When Gisburne finally did go to sleep, it didn't last for long. However, it was long enough for him to wake up feeling cold and stiff. His bones ached and he kept feeling painful twinges in his back and neck.

He sat up and glared at the outlaws, who seemed to be in some pleasant state of dormancy. Some of them were curled up. Some of them even had smiles of contentment on their faces, as if they knew he had barely slept, that just looking at them increased his level of discomfort.

In fact, part of the reason why he couldn't sleep was because of the rumble of their snores and hazy murmurings. He had positioned himself as far away from them as he could, but he could still feel their presence, as if they were moving right beside him. His mind had plagued him with the thought that he had shared their food and had slept in the same camp as these animals who slumbered so prosperously in the dirt and mud of the forest. What might he be reduced to next? Poaching? Robbing the rich as they travelled the main road...?

Robin stirred and then woke, smiling as if he knew Gisburne's thoughts.

"You're awake," said Robin with a yawn. "You did sleep, didn't you?"

Gisburne glared at Robin indignantly. "Of course I did. I slept perfectly."

"It doesn't look like it," replied Robin, observing the knight's tousled hair, darkly circled eyes, and stiff uncomfortable manner.

"Well, I did," lied Gisburne.

"It's early. You can't have been awake long."

"Oh, I always rise early."

"Always? You mean you never sleep late?"

"Never," responded Gisburne.

"Well, I am impressed! stated Robin earnestly. "You must hunt if you like to rise so early."

"Of course," answered Gisburne, as if such a notion had to be obvious.

"You should get a good start, then," said Robin.

"What?"

"To hunt. To hunt us some venison, Guy."

"Poach?" cried Gisburne in horror.

The outlaws immediately leapt up in alarm. Then they saw it was only Guy of Huntingdon and relaxed. They had become quite used to his antics by this time.

"Good morning," said Loxley to Robin and Guy, grinning at the latter rather insolently. "You slept well, my lord?" he asked Gisburne.

"Perfectly," replied the knight.

"Hmm...doesn't look like it..."

Gisburne grumbled something under his breath, and Loxley's smile grew even wider. Despite his wound, the morning seemed bright.

"Good morning, my lady," said Loxley, noticing Marion blink her eyes open to the sun. "I hope you slept well."

"Is it morning already?"

"You didn't sleep well?" asked Gisburne, pretending to sound concerned.

"Oh, no!" answered Marion, who hadn't noticed the sarcasm in Gisburne's voice. "I slept wonderfully. I don't think I've slept that well in weeks. The forest is so beautiful and peaceful at night. And I felt as if the trees...as if they were not only sheltering me, but protecting me as well. It's as if I've always known this place, as if I have been here for years...Oh, my lord, you look terrible! You must not have slept well at all!" exclaimed Marion, who had looked over at Gisburne just in time to see him grimace at her account.

Gisburne stood up, threw his blanket at Robin, and started to march out of the camp again.

"Guy, you forgot your long bow!" called Robin. "You said you would hunt for us!"

"Hunt!" cried Loxley in panic. But, fortunately, Gisburne had forgotten.

"What did I say?" asked Marion, once Gisburne had gone.

"Nothing," said Robin. "It's just Guy. Actually, he's taking all of this much better than I thought he would. He's only stormed out of the camp three times since yesterday."

Marion raised an eyebrow. "And that's good?"

"For Guy? Yes...I think it is rather good. Now, if I had asked him to go out on watch--"

Loxley laughed. "You purposely go out of your way to antagonize him, don't you? Are you sure you two are brothers? You seem to act more like enemies than kin."

"I sometimes wonder..." muttered Robin.

Loxley quickly sensed that this was a sore subject for Robin and let it drop. He rose and gently began to prod his men to their feet. "Come on, get up," he told them. "We have a long day ahead of us."

  


* * * * 

  
After breaking their morning fast, the outlaws were quickly organized into groups to sharpen their fighting skills. Robin soon discovered that their skill at archery was excellent, but their knowledge of such weapons as the sword and quarterstaff was almost deficient. Nevertheless, with the fortunate addition of John and Nasir to the group, the outlaws were soon well on their way to gaining the skills that would help them defeat their enemies.

John divided his time between teaching one group how to use a quarterstaff properly and another group how to wrestle, with Tuck's able assistance for both. Nasir, who was the most superb fighter Robin had ever met, patiently endeavoured to teach a third group about swords. Even Marion took part in the training, which had greatly amused some of the outlaws until she had deftly swatted two or three of them with her quarterstaff, causing any doubts about a woman fighting with them to quickly fade.

Gisburne returned in the midst of all this, staring at the group of outlaws in wonder. He sat down beside Robin, who was taking a well-earned rest after being badly beaten by John in a wrestling match.

Robin looked over at Loxley, who stood to the side as if he were an outsider. He was watching some of his men learn another lesson in swordplay. Being wounded, Loxley had been dismissed from most of the action. He could only observe what was being taught and not participate. Robin didn't think that was right. He took his sword and tossed it to Gisburne.

"Here. You're not doing anything. Go teach Loxley how to fight."

"Loxley?" From what Gisburne could remember, Loxley had required little teaching.

Robin sensed Gisburne's thoughts and frowned. "Things are different here."

"How different?" asked Gisburne in interest.

"He can hardly fight at all," admitted Robin.

"Loxley can't fight?" mused Gisburne.

Robin immediately disliked the eagerness in Gisburne's voice.

Gisburne rose, making no attempt to hide the smirk on his face. "You are certain about this?" he asked, checking again to make sure he had heard the news correctly.

"This isn't a contest, Gisburne!" snapped Robin. "Just teach him! And don't forget. He's wounded, so go easy with him."

The knight's grin widened and he sauntered over to Loxley with sword in hand. "Come on, Loxley, let's see what you can do."

The outlaw hesitated, but unable to refuse the challenge, he followed Gisburne to a separate corner of the camp, where Robin could just manage to see them. Loxley held his sword awkwardly in front of him.

Gisburne smiled again and suddenly lunged forward. "Defend yourself!" he cried, and Loxley just managed to block the blow. However, after two more thrusts from Gisburne, Loxley's sword was wrenched from his hand. Robin bent his head and groaned. Gisburne was supposed to be teaching Loxley how to fight, not clobbering him!

Once again Gisburne, launched an attack, knocking Albion from Loxley's hand. Loxley looked crestfallen, and Robin could tell that his wound had begun to trouble him some more. Robin promptly decided that he would end the lesson there and give Gisburne a proper hiding if he had to. But before he was on his feet, someone had already dealt with the problem.

As Gisburne prepared to strike another blow, he found that his stroke was intercepted without Loxley even raising his sword. An arm went around his neck and his weapon was twisted out of his hand. Then, the knight was hurled to the ground. Everyone stopped what they were doing and froze. Will Scarlet picked up Gisburne's sword, but made no move to attack Loxley. Gisburne glared at Will angrily, but Robin laid a hand on his shoulder and held him down.

"Leave him," said Robin. "All of you," he added, as he saw the other outlaws edging towards the two. Loxley and Scarlet didn't seem to hear or see any of this. They stood, swords in hand, staring at each other.

"Could you teach me how to do that?" asked Loxley, marvelling at Will's style.

"I can't teach you anything until you've learned how to handle a sword properly," answered Will gruffly.

"I need someone to teach me," said Loxley, looking straight in Will's direction.

Will shook his head, but the hard glint in his eyes softened a little and he started to laugh. Loxley laughed too. Without any further words, Will became a member of the group and a great friendship began.

  


* * * * 

  
By the end of the day, the outlaws were tired and sore from all of the training and exercise. But they were satisfied by the new skills they had obtained and the progress they were making.

Stronger than the skills they had acquired was the bond that had developed within the group, instilled by the addition of the new members, whose warmth and kindness spread quickly through the camp. And Will, though still rather gruff, was generally accepted into the group. He even gained approval from Tuck, who saw a tender heart beyond the tough exterior.

Gisburne gained no one's admiration or approval, but was respected from a distance, which suited him just fine. This respect extended far enough to allow Gisburne a place in their continued discussion on strategies for getting into Clun Castle. This was unfortunate for the outlaws because Tuck made the mistake of asking Gisburne for his opinion on the subject. Several minutes later, Gisburne was still speaking about siege ladders and battering rams.

"My lord," said Loxley at last, "why is it that you're an earl's son and, yet, you speak like a knight?"

"Guy was trained as a knight," answered Robin, hoping to justify Gisburne's rather expansive knowledge of warfare. "Though," he added tersely, "Guy should have remembered that we are not trying to start a war but rescue Margaret and help you find the Silver Arrow."

"My lord," said Tuck to Robin, trying dutifully as ever to relieve the tensions between he and Gisburne, "I'm certain that your brother is just as concerned about your sister's welfare as you are and wishes to explore every possible means of rescue."

_Right_, thought Gisburne. _As if I care about some woman who is stupid enough to think she's my sister!_ For Gisburne, even the code of knightly virtue wasn't enough to warm his heart to the task. He read a look of pity in Tuck's eyes and hated it. He hated all of this.

"Well, Robert," said Gisburne, placing an unpleasant emphasis on Robin's Christian name, "what do you suggest we do to get into the castle?"

"Well..." began Robin.

"Well," stated Loxley, "how would any of you get into the castle?" He was answered by a couple of yawns and several bored sleepy faces. "Come on now. You can't leave all of the planning to these two!" He had been tempted to add that they would get nowhere if they did! Loxley waited patiently for a few moments, but there were still no replies. "You had better start thinking of something soon," he warned, "as we're leaving for Clun Castle tomorrow at first light."

"What? Oh, come on, Robin!" protested some of his men. There were a few grumbled murmurs and groans as well, but Loxley ignored them all.

"We can't afford to wait any longer. The Arrow has been taken and, as its guardian, I have sworn to protect it. We must act quickly to find it before its power is used for evil." One or two men bowed their heads. The others nodded and muttered their assent. "We can't forget about the Lady Margaret either," stated Loxley, looking at Robin and Gisburne. "We believe in helping any woman, Saxon or Norman." He paused, taking in the group before him. "Well, come on you lot. You had better start thinking of something."

"Robin, I could get you into the castle," said Marion. Everyone turned to her in surprise.

"I know Clun's servant, Gulnar. If I asked to speak with him--"

"No," answered Loxley.

Marion looked taken aback. "Well, then, I could send him a message telling him to--"

"No," responded Loxley even more emphatically. "My lady, you can't come with us. You're staying here."

"What?" cried Marion.

"I'm sorry. You must stay here. Much will look after you."

This was complete news to Much. "But Robin--!"

"You're staying here, Much. You both are."

They both began to protest against Loxley's decision angrily, but Loxley refused to listen. Gisburne made a helpful comment about keeping women and children away during times of battle, meriting him a pair of looks that were even colder than he was comfortable with.

Robin saw tears beginning to form in Marion's eyes before she pushed her way blindly out of the camp.

Much turned furiously to Loxley. "I may not be going with you tomorrow, but come first light I'll be leaving here too...and I won't be coming back!" he announced. Then he stormed out of the camp as well.

"Get some sleep," Loxley told the rest of the group, pretending not to see the concern in their eyes. He failed to follow his own advice, remaining before the fire, deep in thought. Robin also chose to ignore Loxley's advice and slipped quietly away to find Marion. At the moment, he felt that her needs outweighed those of Much, who was better accustomed to both the ways of the forest and Robin of Loxley.

"It isn't right," said Marion, once Robin discovered her sitting by the lake. She was perched on a rock, surrounded by a chain of lilies. Robin thought she resembled a fairy the way the moonlight played within her eyes and against the glossy locks of her hair.

Robin sat down beside Marion. "He only wants to keep you out of danger. He thinks you'll be safer here."

"Well, I shan't be. I'm in as much danger here as I would be in Clun Castle. Sometimes, I think even more...You can tell him that if you like. You can tell him this as well. I know the real reason why he doesn't want me there. He doesn't want his men to think that he has to rely on a mere woman for help."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I don't know. Do you agree with him, Robert?"

"It's not my place to agree or disagree with him. He is leader, not me."

Marion shook her head and smiled. "I didn't ask you that. But if you were leader, would you make me stay?"

"No. I think that both you and Much are too important to leave behind. Without your help, we don't have as good a chance of getting into the castle or finding the Arrow."

"Or your sister," said Marion, gently squeezing Robin's shoulder. "It's a pity that you are not leader." She turned her head away and stared listlessly across the water.

"It isn't what Robin said that bothers you, is it?" asked Robin.

"I'm frightened. I don't want to be left alone here, Robert. Oh, I know that Much will be here, but it still isn't enough. I'd still feel...unprotected."

Robin sighed. He had only just begun to forget about Azael and the Lords of Darkness. "Marion, they can't hurt you again. You're free of them."

"How can I be certain of that? Robert, if you go, I...I don't know if I'll be able to bear it. I have felt safer since I left Belleme Castle..." She raised a hand before Robin could speak. "And it has been because of you. You are what makes me feel safe and...and good again. You are my protection. Without you, I feel lost. I fear that I will...that I..." She faced him, tears shining in her eyes again. "Please, help me. Don't leave me here. I really couldn't bear it. Please..."

Robin took her hand. "I'll speak with him and see if I can make him change his mind. In the morning, when he's had more time to think about it."

"Oh, thank you, Robert!" cried Marion in delight. "You have always been so kind to me, even though I didn't deserve it. Thank you." She leaned forward and kissed Robin softly on the cheek. Their eyes met for an instant, their faces remaining quite close. They both read a mutual look of desire and drew nearer, their lips meeting briefly before parting. Then, they met again and their exchange took the form of a kiss.

A twig snapped and they broke apart, staring into the night's shadows to see who it was. But the only sign of movement was the rustle of the wind through the trees, against an inky cloak of stars. They both smiled sheepishly.

"We'd better get back," said Robin.

  


* * * * 

  
"Would it help to talk about it?" asked Robin. He had approached Much, who lay stretched upon the ground, watching the clouds shift across the stars. Much shook his head. "You're still angry with him, aren't you?"

Much raised himself up on one elbow. "He treats me like a child, but I'm a man now!"

"He's your brother, Much. He's trying to protect you."

"Aye, well, I wish he would protect me less and treat me more like the others."

"I know," replied Robin, trying to be sympathetic.

"My lord?"

"Call me Robert. Please."

"Robert...does your brother treat you like that?" asked Much.

Robin glanced quickly across the camp at Gisburne, who lifted his head and gazed back at him as if he had heard the question too. Robin turned away. "My brother doesn't even know I exist," he said, making a statement that was closer to the truth than Much realized. Much stared at his companion curiously. Robin decided to steer the conversation away from his fraternal relationship with Gisburne. "I'll talk to Robin in the morning, Much, and try to convince him to allow you and Marion to come."

"Really?" asked Much hopefully.

"Yes, so get some sleep, Much. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

  


* * * * 

  
First light the next morning saw everyone awake except the man who had made the bold claim that he never slept late.

"So much for always rising early," murmured Robin, studying the sleeping knight in amusement. He prodded Gisburne with his foot, but Gisburne only groaned and turned over on his side.

After two rough nights, almost completely devoid of sleep, Gisburne was stubbornly adhering to a state of unconsciousness.

"Come on, wake up. We all agreed to leave at first light. Guy? Guy, wake up!"

Gisburne didn't move an inch. Robin felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Will, grinning from ear to ear.

"I'll wake him up," offered Will helpfully. Robin knew the method Will was going to employ and felt that it was kinder than any of the tactics he had been devising himself.

"All right," replied Robin, who was eager to find Loxley. He left the camp, carefully listening for the cold splash from Will's bucket and Gisburne's angry sputter as the water hit his face. He continued through the forest, chuckling to himself as he tried to picture the scene he had just missed. He was still thinking about it when he found Loxley and cheerfully hailed him.

"I need to speak with you," said Robin, approaching Loxley.

"Do you?" Loxley didn't look particularly pleased about it.

"Yes," answered Robin. "It's about Marion and Much. I think you should let them come with us."

"They're safer here."

"They don't seem to think so. Much thinks you're treating him like a child and acting unfairly. Marion...Marion can help us. She wants to help and...and she's frightened to be left here without us, even with Much to protect her."

Loxley moved towards Robin and their faces were only inches apart. Loxley's eyes were burning. "Much is my brother. He is my responsibility, not yours. And as for Lady Marion, I think we both know why she really wishes to go. She doesn't want to part from you."

"What?" Robin stepped back a few paces. "Last night by the lake...It was you!" he exclaimed, recalling the sound he and Marion had heard when they were together.

Loxley flushed. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I only wished to speak with her, to explain why I thought she shouldn't come. However, since you seem to have convinced her and everyone else that you are really leader--"

"That's not true!" protested Robin.

"Isn't it?" asked Loxley heatedly. "Then why are my men now coming to you with questions? Why are they asking you what should or should not be done? And why are you telling them? If you think you aren't their leader, then why are you ordering them about, Huntingdon?"

Robin stared at Loxley, both stunned and hurt by his comments. "I never tried to order anyone about, or take your place as leader. I was, and still am, just trying to act for the good of the group. Why should you think otherwise?"

"Maybe being an earl's son and a Norman lord with money, servants, serfs, and acres of land is not enough," said Loxley impetuously. The callousness of his remark hit a very sensitive nerve.

"You're jealous," breathed Robin. "You're jealous because you actually believe that I might be a better leader than you and because you think that Marion is in love with me."

"I can't believe it!" yelled Loxley. "You're even more arrogant than your brother: something I didn't think was possible until now! Do you really think I'm jealous of you? You may be a better leader than me, and Marion may love you, but I am not jealous!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I don't know. I didn't want to get into any of this with you. I just wanted you to think about allowing Marion and Much to--"

"No!"

"Look, will you just listen to me? Why won't you ever listen, Loxley?"

"Because I don't trust you, Huntingdon. Ever since we met up with you and your brother, we've had nothing but trouble. The Siver Arrow has been stolen because of you. My men will no longer listen to me because of you!"

"Much and Marion are the ones who don't want to listen to you! Am I to blame for that too?"

"They have nothing to do with this!"

"No, that's where you're wrong! They have everything to do with this, and so do you! You want them to stay here because you can't stand the thought of them having anything to do with me!"

"I don't want you to have anything to do with any of us!"

"Why? Because you think I'm going to steal your group from you, or because you think I'm going to steal Marion?"

"Leave her out of this!"

"You're in love with her, Loxley! Admit it!"

"I'll admit nothing! Stop telling me what to do!"

"I'm not telling you what to do! I only want the truth!"

"The truth? You wouldn't know the truth if it sat up and bit you!"

"I'm not the one telling lies," said Robin.

Judging by the look on Loxley's face, the outlaw took this as a serious insult. Loxley raised his fist just as a shout was heard behind them.

"All right, both of you, just quit it!"

Robin and Loxley wheeled around and faced Gisburne, who stood glaring at them, his arms folded across his chest. He was soaking wet from the shoulders up. As a drop of water rolled down his nose, he reached up a hand to plaster his hair back.

"Look at the pair of you!" said Gisburne. "You had might as well draw swords now and be done with it! You're not even going to make it to Clun Castle, let alone find a way into it! You fools have allowed that stupid woman to get the better of you! Oh, but she's not so stupid, is she? She has complete control over you and everything else in this camp!"

"Shut up, Gisburne! This doesn't concern you!" snapped Robin, his tongue accidentally slipping. Fortunately, Loxley didn't notice, but Gisburne did. However, he was content, for the moment, to slide back into his element.

"You're right," answered Gisburne sharply. "It doesn't. It doesn't matter to me what any of you do. I couldn't care less that, because of you, Marion and that half-wit, Much, are plotting to leave for Clun Castle without you."

"What?" cried Loxley and Robin in unison.

"Oh, yes. While you two idiots stood here babbling about Marion, they started making plans to leave for Clun Castle!"

"I must speak with them," stated Loxley.

Gisburne rolled his eyes. "Oh, well, there's a thought! Although neither one of you has any command over me, I know that those men aren't going to follow either one of you if you keep acting like this. You can't expect them to. There can only be one leader and, unfortunately, that leader has to be one of you. I suggest you pick now before those cutthroats mutiny! As for me, I'm through with you! I've had enough!" Gisburne spun around and promptly marched away from them.

"Your brother may not be a well man, but if you wait long enough, he sometimes says something that actually makes sense," said Loxley in wonder. The sides of Robin's mouth began to twitch, and they both broke into laughter. "He's certainly made us look like fools, hasn't he?"

"Only me," said Robin. "I'm the one who started all of this. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to tell you what to do."

"No, you were only doing what you thought was best for the group." Loxley smiled and patted Robin on the back. "I've misjudged you."

"I think we misjudged each other. Should we talk to Much and Marion?"

"Yes, and then we'll all head to Clun Castle...together."

"All of us?"

"All of us. Marion and _both_ of our brothers."

Robin grimaced. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm afraid so. I'll talk to Marion and Much. Can you handle Guy?"

"I'll do what I can." Robin began to walk away then turned to face Loxley again. "I think we both know who is leader here. I trust you to do whatever is right."

"We may both know who is leader here," said Loxley, once Robin had left, "but is it the leader who is best?"

  


* * * * 

  
"If you think you're going to make me stay this time, Wolfshead, you're very much mistaken," said Gisburne, untying his horse.  
"Where will you go?"

"I don't know." _Nor do I care_, thought Gisburne.

"You should be coming with us."

"Why? So I can listen to you and Loxley squabble over that woman from here to Clun Castle?"

"Loxley and I aren't fighting anymore. We've reached an agreement."

"Oh, have you? You mean a truce like the one between you and me?" asked Guy cynically.

"There's a difference. Unlike you, Loxley doesn't break his promises."

"I made a pact with an outlaw. How much promise can be found in that?"

"Oh, so because I'm an outlaw, you have every right to break an agreement between us!"

"We're enemies! We should never have made a truce in the first place!"

"Then why were you willing to agree to it, Gisburne?"

"I told you. I wanted out of this...place."

"And you don't want out of it now?"

Gisburne passed a hand across his face. "You're going into this blind. You don't have a plan or anything."

"We have come up with enough ideas among ourselves to make one."

"When? You're leaving for Clun Castle now!"

Robin grinned. "It's a long journey to Clun Castle."

"Yes, but will it be long enough?"

"Well, if you came along, it would certainly seem that way," said Robin. Gisburne scowled. "Some of our best plans have been thought up at the last moment."

"A successful plan is a well thought plan," stated Gisburne.  
"Not always. One way or another, we'll get into that castle. You'll see."

"And when we do?"

"You'll learn what it means to have a real adventure."

  


* * * * 

  


** Chapter Nine **

  
"You're causing quite an uproar, my dear. You're all that the King, your father, and half the nobles of England have been able to talk about for days."

A pair of angry blue eyes gazed up at the Marcher lord, blinking back tears as they did so. Owen of Clun waited for his prisoner to give some response, but she simply bowed her head and tightened the clasp of the hands in her lap.

Clun did his best to hide his disappointment over Margaret's lack of interest in his news, which was something he didn't do well. He grabbed Margaret by the chin and forced her to look up at him. Margaret was still terrified of him, but her hatred made her fear seem insignificant in comparison.

Margaret had quickly learned that lack of emotion over anything Clun did or said was her most effective weapon against him. She made her best effort to look back at him with passive lifeless eyes. There were few things that vexed Clun more than a dispirited woman. Clun tore his hand away, raising it above his head as if to strike her. Margaret flinched momentarily, but did not cower. Clun laughed.

"Perhaps there's hope for you after all." Clun sat down on the bed beside Margaret. She tried to shrink away, but Clun's arm locked around her shoulders. "Wouldn't you like to hear news of your father?"

Margaret still would not answer.

"He's a brave man, your father. The man I sent to Newark says he challenged the King himself on your behalf. You see, the King is still on my side and he freely blesses a marriage between us. But your father seems to feel that it is a bad match and is strongly against it. He has threatened to send soldiers here himself, though King John has ordered him not to. Your father is speaking of treason itself." Clun looked into Margeret's eyes, searching for some sign of excitement or alarm, but she still gave none.

"Your father may be brave, Margaret, but he is also very foolish. If he thinks he can attack this castle, he is very much mistaken. Besides, I doubt if his constitution could bear it. He's an old man. His daughter has been taken from him and both his sons are gone. Oh, yes, it's true," Clun said as Margaret's body suddenly stiffened. She provided Clun with her complete attention now.

"Your younger brother, Robert, has gone missing," continued Clun. "He's disappeared without a trace. No one seems to know where he went. Unless, perhaps, he joined your other brother. We both know where he went, your poor poor brother, Guy."

Margaret bit her lip fiercely, holding her grief in check. Her knuckles tightened so that they were white against the skin.

"No one is going to rescue you," boasted Clun. "You shall be my wife and bear my sons, the future heirs of the house of Clun. Think of the power we will share. Think of the power you shall yield as Lady Margaret of Clun and the title I shall inherit as the next Earl of Huntingdon, one of the most powerful men in England. Just think of it!"

Margaret did think of it, slowly shaking her head as she did so. "I pity you, Owen," she said at last.

"Pity me?" demanded Clun. "Why?"

"By forcing me to be your wife, you may have many of the things you desire, but you shall never have a woman who truly loves, or even admires you. Every day that passes will make me hate you more. I'll die before I ever love you, Owen."

Clun pulled away from Margaret, but then took her wrist tightly in his hand. "If you think you can escape from me that way either, you are also mistaken," he told her angrily. "I won't give you the chance to kill yourself."

Margaret looked back at Clun, her pale eyelids fluttering for an instant.  
"I don't need to. You already have."

  


* * * * 

  
"Well, are we ready to be massacred?" asked Gisburne, feigning cheerfulness. Robin ignored his derisive comment and focused his energy on studying the sturdy stone walls of Clun Castle instead. Despite Gisburne's attitude towards the situation, Robin felt that the group had done very well so far. The journey had not taken as long as he had feared it might and tensions had been few. Loxley had spoken with Much and Marion. They had finally persuaded him to allow them to accompany the rest of the outlaws to the castle.

The first obstacle the outlaws had come across had been dealt with successfully. They had discreetly silenced the men on the hillside who had been responsible for lighting the castle's signal fire in case of attack. However, although the outlaws had gained this small victory, they were still debating a method to sneak into the castle, hence Gisburne's apparent apprehension about their quest.

Marion believed that by asking for Gulnar, she and her former servants, John and Nasir, could easily gain access into the castle. But that still left the rest of them. Gulnar might be suspicious if he saw anyone else but Marion's most trusted servants trying to escort her. Yet, Marion, John and Nasir couldn't possibly find the Arrow and rescue Margaret alone.

Robin sat down on the grass beside Loxley and rested his chin on his hand, trying, like the others, to think of a suitable plan. He stared gloomily at the castle, as if waiting for it to reveal the secrets of its defences. Robin remembered when he and his friends had crept into Clun Castle to rescue Marion from Owen's grasp. They had disguised themselves as merchants and managed to pass successfully through the gates. From there, everything had been quite simple. The whole castle had been occupied with the Feast of Arrianrhod, Owen's marriage ceremony, and the blood games.

Escaping from the castle had been a more difficult task, requiring them to take Owen of Clun as their hostage. Robin grimaced as he was reminded of Clun's fate: killed under the spikes of his own portcullis as it hurtled down at him.

Gazing down at the same portcullis, Robin could still picture Clun and almost hear the agonized scream of his death. His death...

Suddenly, Robin had a flash of inspiration. He turned to the others as his mind worked wildly to devise a plan. "I've got it. I know how to get into the castle," he said, looking directly at Gisburne. "And I know how we're going to get both the Arrow and Margaret back."

  


* * * * 

  
The guards at the gate exchanged puzzled glances at the sight of the wounded man.

"He's not well," chorused Robin, Loxley and Scarlet. Gisburne would have cringed visibly if he wasn't playing the part of the wounded man. Instead, he groaned on cue as Loxley elbowed him in the side.

"We were attacked on the road and these two men were good enough to help us," said Robin, starting to spin out his tale. "My companion was badly wounded. He must be attended to by a physician immediately.

"Physician?" asked one of the guards, as if it were a foreign word. The other one reached through the grille of the portcullis and lifted Gisburne's head to study his condition.

"Ugh! He looks terrible!"

Robin suppressed a laugh, knowing that Gisburne wasn't that good an actor. He hid the grin that was tugging at the sides of his mouth and tried to display some semblance of seriousness. "We must see your master at once. We carry an urgent message from the King."

This bit of news caught the guards's attention, though they still remained wary. With a war looming in Wales and threats from Llwelyn for siding with England, they had been ordered to remain extra cautious. Robin read the doubt behind their eyes and hardened his tactics.

"If my friend dies, the King will have your heads! This man is His Majesty's most trusted servant and favourite messenger. If the King ever heard of this outrage you are committing--"

The portcullis began to rise and Robin prudently desisted. They passed through the gates and followed the guards through the courtyard.

"Favourite messenger!" grumbled Gisburne, as Robin fell back into step with Loxley and Scarlet.

"Shut up," hissed Loxley. "You're supposed to be mortally wounded."

"Oh, yes, that load of berries you smashed into my tunic was deadly!" replied Gisburne.

"Shut up!" whispered three fervent voices. The guards turned around.

"He's delirious," said Robin quickly. "If we could take him to a quiet chamber where we might tend to him ourselves..." They were soon guided to one. It was small and quite dark, with only the tiniest of windows to conduct any light. It was just the room Robin had been looking for. He flashed a polite smile at the guards. "Thank you. This will suit us very well."

  


* * * * 

  
"You? What are you doing here?" drawled Gulnar, glaring up at Marion from the floor. Marion had stepped into Gulnar's chamber of spells, discovering easy access into the castle after dropping Gulnar's name and speaking a few menacing incantations. It also hadn't hurt to have John and Nasir forming a strong wall of support behind her. She now gazed at Gulnar, observing the circle of runes and stone pebbles.

"You mean you weren't expecting me?" asked Marion, discerning that what lay on the floor was one of the magical devices Gulnar used to aid his powers of sight.

"Oh, I was expecting you, Marion," said Gulnar. "I just didn't know if you would have the audacity to appear."

"Audacity?" replied Marion in amusement.

Gulnar's eyes narrowed to slits. "You tried to betray me."

"Me? You ran off, not me!"

"You joined sides with Herne's son."

"What?" cried Marion, proclaiming her innocence. She turned to John and Nasir, who silently urged her on. "Do you really think I would be foolish enough to work with that wolfshead, Gulnar?" She drew a huge sigh as the sorcerer still regarded her suspiciously.

"Let me explain..." began Marion.

  


* * * * 

  
"Is this really necessary?" asked Gisburne, coughing as Robin rubbed chalk dust on his face.

"If we plan to fool Owen of Clun, it is," answered Robin.

"Someone's coming," said Loxley, hearing the sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor.

"Do you know your part?" asked Robin.

"Yes, yes," said Gisburne impatiently.

Robin handed Gisburne his sword and joined Loxley and Will in the excellent shadow provided by the dank little chamber. However, it was hardly necessary for them to disappear. When Owen of Clun entered the room, he only had eyes for the figure by the window.

Gisburne certainly could be dramatic at times. He had to give him that, Robin decided, watching as Gisburne turned ever so slowly from the window to face Clun. Clun did not recognize Gisburne's face at first, but, when he did, the look of terror he held was fantastic.

"You-you...you're dead!" gasped Clun.

Gisburne simply stared back at the Marcher lord and said nothing. Clun's reaction had startled him a little at first. Gisburne wondered if he had blanched that much himself when he had come across the men of this time who were supposed to be dead. He hoped he hadn't, yet, at the same time, he still felt a thrill pass through him. He saw the kind of power he exerted over Clun by just looking at him, the power he had to terrify the Marcher lord.

Gisburne raised his sword, swinging it around casually for a bit, then tossing it from hand to hand.

Clun continued to gape at Gisburne, then, seeing a possible interval to escape, started to back out of the room slowly.

"Stay where you are, Clun!" barked Gisburne, and the Marcher lord froze in panic.

"What-what do you want from me?" whispered Owen.

"I want what was taken from me," answered Gisburne, carefully placing the coldest edge to his voice. Owen began to tremble, fearing that Gisburne meant to kill him because Grendel had taken his life. Gisburne must have read his expression, for he smiled twistedly. "Get the girl," he commanded.

"The girl?" asked Clun.

"You know. Margaret, my...my sister," said Gisburne, somehow managing to work his mouth around the word. Clun hesitated and Gisburne raised his sword again, moving a step closer. Clun drew back in fright. "Bring her to me, Clun. Now." Gisburne's tone leaving no room for doubt.

"It...it shall be done...I swear it!" exclaimed Clun, before fleeing from the room.

Gisburne glanced at his audience. "Well?"

"Good work," admitted Robin, and Loxley and Will gave their praise begrudgingly. Gisburne gloated, making no attempt at modesty. It was almost a pity that none of his other performances ever ended so successfully.

"Can you handle this alone?" Robin dared to ask.

"Of course," replied Guy haughtily.

"All right, then. After Clun delivers Margaret to you, get her out of this castle and take her to safety. Take her back to Huntingdon."

"Huntingdon?"

"Yes. I'll meet you there once we've found the Arrow."

Gisburne shook his head. "No, you'll meet me outside of this castle. Do you really think I'm stupid enough to leave here without you?"

Robin studied his new ally, knowing that this was an issue of trust, not loyalty. Gisburne didn't trust him to keep his word and help him return to their proper time.

"Your concern should be for Margaret," stated Robin. Then he sighed and relented. "We'll meet outside the castle once you've gotten Margaret to safety."

"Fine," said Gisburne, though the thought of safeguarding this woman didn't really appeal to him. "You'd better go. Clun will be coming back soon."

"Come on," Robin told Loxley and Will, "we'd better. Give my best to Margaret."

The knight scowled, then coughed as more of the chalk dust started to tickle his throat.

"I think we should follow Clun," said Robin, once they were outside the door. "Ghost or no ghost, I don't trust him to keep his word. I don't think he would give up Margaret or an alliance with my father that easily."

"You don't think he'll give her to your brother."

"Oh, he'll bring her to him. It's a question of whether he'll let Guy leave the castle with her alive."

"But he thinks your brother's a ghost, doesn't he?" said Will. "And he's not going to kill your sister."

"He thinks Guy is a ghost for now, but even he can't be fooled for long. Guy isn't _that_ good an actor."

"You don't trust Guy to play his part?" asked Loxley.

"I don't trust Clun and his men to remain a faithful audience. That's why I have to make certain that Clun keeps his promise: so that Guy can finish his performance."

"All right," agreed Loxley. "You and Scarlet must see to it that he gets your sister out of the castle."

"What about you, Loxley?" said Will. "Aren't you with us?"

"I must find the Arrow. I am its guardian. It is my duty to protect it. I can't allow Marion and the others to risk their lives for it. I must find it and return it to Herne myself."

  


* * * * 

  
"So, you're telling me that Robert of Huntingdon and Robin Hood and his men are heading towards this castle?" asked Gulnar.

"Yes," replied Marion. "You must go to your master and warn him at once that Robert of Huntingdon has brought a thousand men from his father's castle!"

"And why should I believe you?" said Gulnar. "How do I know that you haven't joined sides with young Huntingdon and that this isn't a trick?"

"Oh, I have joined sides with him," answered Marion. "At least, that's what he thinks. He doesn't know that I've really come here to warn you."

"Why warn me? Why betray Huntingdon?"

"Why? Well," said Marion, taking a moment or two to consider Gulnar's question, "one reason for not siding with him is because I know your master will defeat him."

"I thought he had a thousand men," Gulnar reminded her.

"Who will be crushed by Lord Owen now that you know of his plan. Your master would reward you well, Gulnar, if you saved him and his castle from destruction."

"Why are you telling me this? What do you hope to gain?" asked Gulnar.

"Power."

"You think you can gain this by siding with me?"

"I know I can," stated Marion. "We just have to find Guy of Huntingdon and we can continue with our plans as if nothing happened."

"Isn't Guy of Huntingdon with his brother?"

"They had a quarrel. They act like enemies around each other. We could easily draw Guy out. If we both worked together, we could help each other."

"You mean, I could help you. What would Azael do to you if you failed him?"

Marion shut her eyes and tried to control the trembling of her hands. "I...I do not know...I fear him so..." She looked at Gulnar imploringly. "I could not...I can't describe what Azael and the Lords of Darkness might do to me," she whispered. "I fear they will destroy me."

Gulnar grinned, finding Marion's terror amusing.

"I must speak to my master," said Gulnar. "Wait for me here." The sorcerer headed for the door, casting another look at Marion and snickering.

Marion waited until Gulnar was well out of earshot then turned to John and Nasir. "Search for the Arrow!" she cried.

  


* * * * 

  
"Where is she?" shouted Owen of Clun, confronting Gulnar wildly as the sorcerer entered Margaret's chamber.

The sorcerer observed his master's bloodless face, wide eyes and trembling form with some trepidation. However, he kept his voice level and calm. "My lord, you ordered the women to prepare her for the blood games this afternoon."

"I must find them," said Clun earnestly.

"Why, master?" asked Gulnar, speaking in a smooth gentle tone. "What is wrong?"

"Everything!" exclaimed Clun. "By Thor's thunder, everything, Gulnar!" He pulled a wine flask from his belt and, with trembling fingers, took a drink.

"My lord, I cannot help you unless you tell me what has happened," said Gulnar. "What is it that has frightened you so?"

Clun dropped the flask and faced Gulnar with a growl. "I am not afraid of anything!" he yelled. "God's teeth, Gulnar! You are the man with the gift of sight! You should have seen this! You should have warned me of this!"

"My lord?" inquired Gulnar politely.

"Guy of Huntingdon! I have just seen his spirit in this castle!"

"What?" shouted Gulnar, his eyeballs almost diving out of their sockets.

"It's true, Gulnar. I spoke with him myself." Clun watched the sorcerer frown in heavy contemplation. Gulnar, unlike his master, knew that it was quite possible for Gisburne to be in the castle. In fact, he had been expecting him to end up at the castle sooner or later. But he had not expected him to arrive at the castle at the same time as Marion, or Herne's son, who had to be close to them now. Gulnar had suspected that Marion's story had been false. Now, he knew it was so. His enemies were not waiting in the valley to attack them. They were already inside the castle...His master was in danger. He had to act quickly.

"My lord, you must order your men to search this castle at once," said Gulnar. "Our enemies are close to us. They have tried to trick us both, but we are too clever for them. We will hunt them down and they shall be vanquished! Make haste, master. Do the deed before it is too late!" cried Gulnar when he saw that his lord was still rooted to the same spot.

"What about Guy of Huntingdon?" asked Owen fearfully.

"You need not concern yourself, my lord. I know ways of dealing with spirits and this spirit I mean to destroy."

  


* * * * 

  
"Oh, Robin, it's you," said Marion in relief. Her fear of being discovered by Gulnar had been intense enough to jolt her when Loxley had entered the room.

"Have you found the Arrow yet?" asked Loxley, moving to Marion's side.

"No!" whispered Marion in despair. "I think he must be the best sorcerer I have ever seen if he can make the Arrow disappear completely."

"Sorcerer or street conjurer?" teased Loxley with a smile. "Oh, Marion, it's too important to be tossed aside that quickly. It's hidden somewhere in this castle and we're going to find it, even if we have to search this place from top to bottom."

Marion looked up at Loxley, noting his use of her given name for the first time. "You're certain that the Arrow is in this castle?" she said, suddenly feeling a little shy around Loxley.

"Oh, yes. I can feel it."

"Feel it?"

"I am its guardian. I swore an oath to protect it."

"And do you feel this way about everything you have sworn to protect?"

Loxley's smile vanished and he became quite serious. "Yes," he answered. "Yes, Marion...yes."

Marion was met with the full brunt of Loxley's emotions. They were so strong, that she believed she might be swept away by their force if she continued to stare at him a moment longer. But she let Loxley hold her; she didn't want him to let her go.

"My lady."

Loxley's eyes released Marion, and Marion felt her cheeks flush.

"My lady," repeated Nasir, his quiet voice actually sounding excited.

Loxley's hand closed in around Marion's arm as they both walked to where Nasir and John were crouching. Nasir had pushed a loose tile of stone aside, revealing the perfect place for hiding treasures...

Both hands fell upon the loose stone at once. This time, both Loxley and Marion blushed as their fingers touched. Their eyes met again.

"You are its guardian. You must find it." Marion tried to pull her hand away from Loxley's, but Loxley's grip tightened, and together they sought the Arrow.

  


* * * * 

  
Robin and Will headed down another corridor in search of Margaret. After hearing Clun's uproar over what they believed to be her disappearance, they thought they could save some time and trouble for everyone if they found Margaret themselves, especially if she had somehow managed to escape from her captors.

If they had stayed a little longer outside Margaret's door, they would have heard the conversation between Clun and Gulnar and realized that the danger they now faced had increased tenfold. Their presence in the castle had been detected. At that moment, they were walking into a trap.

  


* * * * 

  
Gulnar stepped lightly into the room, waiting eagerly for the figure at the window to turn.

"Where have you been, Clun?" demanded the figure, hearing the sound of feet sweep the floor. "I've been--"

"You've been waiting for me to come?" Gulnar gave Gisburne a friendly leer. "I've been waiting for you. I knew you would come. You had to."

Gisburne raised his sword in defence, but, with the simplest movement of his hand, Gulnar sent it crashing against a wall. The knight's eyes widened and Gulnar laughed with quiet menace.

"I warned you, didn't I?" stated Gulnar. "I said I controlled you completely, and you did not believe me."

"I still don't believe you," growled Gisburne, his anger outweighing his fear.

"Don't you?" Gulnar laughed again. "You will, Guy. Oh, yes, you most certainly will!" The sorcerer moved towards Gisburne, and it took every bit of willpower Gisburne possessed not to flee from the room. It would have been better if he had, but, with Gulnar blocking his escape, he had no choice but to remain where he was.

Gulnar was so close now that he was practically standing on Gisburne's toes. "I'm going to destroy Herne's son, Gisburne, and you're going to help me do it."

The knight struggled, feeling Gulnar's eyes as they bore into him. _No_, thought Gisburne desperately. _No, no, not again!_

  


* * * * 

  
"Welcome to Clun Castle," said Grendel. Robin and Will halted in their tracks. About twenty men drew around them, swords and daggers bared. "Drop your weapons," ordered Grendel. "Now!" he added, observing that the two men were reluctant to oblige. Finally, they dropped their swords and the men closed in. "Lord Owen of Clun has asked me to escort you to the blood games. You are to be his guests."

"Guests?" asked Robin.

"Oh, yes," replied Grendel, with a sudden grin. "Until your services are needed in the blood games, of course. Take them away," he told his men.

  


* * * * 

  
Retrieving the Silver Arrow had been harder than Loxley and Marion had first anticipated. The loose part of the floor had become stuck. It was only with a combination of one of Nasir's swords and John's strong fingers, that the Arrow had revealed itself at all.

Marion had the honour of lifting it from its hold. Then, the Silver Arrow was lying in Loxley's hands.

"Let's find the others and get away from this place," said Marion, as if she could feel the chill of Gulnar's breath on the nape of her neck.

Loxley nodded and both John and Nasir agreed willingly. Loxley shoved the Arrow into his tunic then led his friends out into the corridor. They had only managed to travel as far as the next few chambers, when Loxley spotted someone. "Get back!" he hissed, and they all retreated into a recess in the wall.

"It's Gulnar!" whispered Marion.

"And see who else," said Loxley.

"Guy of Huntingdon!" gasped Marion. "But what is he doing with Gulnar?"

"That's something we'd all like to know," stated John.

"What does he think he's doing?" asked Loxley angrily. His companions didn't have time to answer. They drew in a collective breath and were silent as Gulnar and Gisburne passed.

"Oh no..." began Marion.

"What?" said Loxley, concerned by the unpleasant tone of Marion's voice.

"Guy of Huntingdon has been possessed."

"Possessed! How do you know that?"

"Didn't you see his eyes? We've got to warn Robert."

"Warn Robert?"

"Yes! Oh, Robin, you don't understand. With Guy of Huntingdon in his power, Gulnar might be capable of anything."

  


* * * * 

  
As he and Will were led into the arena, Robin wondered just what Clun planned to do with them. The boisterous shouts from Clun's fellow Marcher lords instantly reminded Robin of the day they had come to the same amphitheatre to rescue Marion. He had challenged Clun's champion to a fight to gain her back. The champion had been Nasir, though Robin had not known it at the time. It had only been after Nasir's helmet had been knocked off his head, and John and Will had signalled to the Saracen that Robin was an ally, that Robin and his friends had defeated Owen of Clun and rescued Marion. But, now, Robin could see nothing to fight for, or any men to fight against. Margaret had not been brought into the amphitheatre yet, and Robin could see no sign of a champion he was meant to fight. All he could see was Clun and hundreds of other lords towering above him. Why had they been brought down to the ring? Was it simply for Clun's amusement? With Clun's first comment of derision, it certainly seemed that way.

"You fool!" Clun shouted at Robin. "Did you really think you could take this whole castle yourself? Did you and your brother really think that I would fall for your stupid trick?"

So Clun knew that Guy of Huntingdon, or the man he knew as Guy of Huntingdon, wasn't dead. Gisburne had been discovered, which meant that neither he nor Margaret had escaped.

A servant entered the amphitheatre and bent forward to whisper something in his master's ear. Clun laughed loudly, his dark eyes focusing on Robin again.

"The signal fire's alight," he stated calmly. "We're under attack." There were gasps and shocked cries among the spectators, but Clun silenced everyone with a flick of his hand. Then, he laughed even louder. "It's only another trick by this young imbecile and his brother! He wants us to believe a mad woman's story about the hundreds of men she claims they have in the valley. But there isn't a single one. In fact, I don't see a real man anywhere in sight," he proclaimed, glaring straight down at his two prisoners. Will gritted his teeth, but the insult didn't register with Robin. His mind turned sharply to Marion.

His spirit began to die when he realized that Marion had been discovered too. He silently cursed his misfortune. He had attempted to take every precaution, even keeping one of Loxley's men with Tuck to ensure that the monk lit the signal fire on time. He thought he had prepared for everything, but now it seemed that all of their work had been for nothing. All of the plans they had made were falling apart...

Clun sensed his anger. He leaned forward in his chair in delight. "That _was_ a clever trick you two played on me," he said, referring specifically to Gisburne's performance as Guy of Huntingdon's ghost. "I almost believed it was true. Almost...Now it's my turn to play a trick on both of you. But I don't think you'll like my trick. I don't think you'll like it at all." He beckoned to the servant who had brought him the news about the signal fire. "Fetch me Gulnar. Tell him to bring his guest. And have Margaret of Huntingdon brought to me. She'll want to see this."

"Leave her alone, Clun!" shouted Robin.

"Leave her alone? With so many men willing to fight for her honour? And her own brother here to fight as her champion? Oh, no, she must be present for this match, though she may have some difficulty choosing a champion to favour. You see, there's more than one champion to choose from. There is you, her brother, and there is another champion Gulnar has found for me. Gulnar says that there's a good chance that his champion might win. Either way, your sister will lose something in the bargain."

"What do you mean?" demanded Robin, who received nothing in reply but a hearty laugh from Lord Owen of Clun.

  


* * * * 

  
Robin was not armed with the broad sword and dagger of the blood games, which caused a stir of discontentment among the spectators, including the host himself. But as Gulnar slid into a chair beside his master, he insisted that Robin must remain armed with only his sword, as his own champion would be.

"All right," said Clun gruffly. "They can fight with their bare hands if they wish it, as long as one of them dies."

"As long as Herne's son, Robert of Huntingdon, dies," replied Gulnar, quietly correcting Clun. "And he will die."

"And your champion, Gulnar?"

"He will die too...once I am finished with him."

"A fitting end for them both then, Gulnar," replied Clun with a grin. "I wish to see this champion of yours. Bring him forward!"

The sorcerer signalled to two of Clun's guards. They entered the arena, escorting Gulnar's champion.

Robin gaped at him, aghast. Gisburne? Gulnar's champion was Gisburne? But why would he have chosen Gisburne...? Because Margaret would be in attendance. Owen had said that she would have difficulty choosing a favourite: difficulty because the choice lay between two brothers who were about to battle to the death!

But Margaret had not arrived yet, and he and Gisburne had made a truce, albeit a temporary one. Surely Guy wouldn't risk his own life, or that of the man who could transport him from this time...would he? No, Gisburne probably didn't want to fight any more than he did. Gisburne was being forced to fight under protest. This meant that he and Gisburne could fake the match, as he himself had done with Nasir, once they had realized they were on the same side. Then, at the right moment, they could get Margaret and break away from the arena, taking Clun as a hostage if they had to. This was ambitious, perhaps, but he and the others had managed to do it before. The issue here was whether he could succeed in such a plan with Gisburne...

Robin studied his adversary carefully. Gisburne looked determined. A little too determined. Was it just a mask, or was this how the knight was really feeling...? Robin watched as a sword was placed in Gisburne's hand. Was it his imagination, or were Guy's fingers curling a bit too greedily around the pommel...?

Clun announced that the games were about to begin. He added both tension and excitement when he stated the champions' names and titles, disclosing the fact that they were brothers. A satisfied roar went up in the arena, increasing in volume as Robin and Gisburne moved towards each other, swords in hand. Then, they were ordered to fight.

Robin would reason with him. They would brush swords a few times, so as not to arouse Clun's suspicions, but their real objective would be to discuss a means of escaping from the castle. Unfortunatley, Gisburne didn't share the same aspirations as Robin, as the latter was about to learn.

"Well, Guy," said Robin, observing the knight's cold glare, "it would seem that we've landed into trouble. What do you think we should do about it?"

Gisburne didn't answer.

"Guy...?"

Gisburne's sword lashed out in an incredible swipe. Robin just managed to duck in time, the weapon missing his head by barely an inch.

"Gisburne, what are you doing?" Robin half-screamed. The sword flew out again and this time Robin was able to block it, though the force behind the blow was almost powerful enough to knock him off his feet. "Guy!" he shouted.

Light from one of the torches suddenly shone in Gisburne's eyes. Robin saw nothing behind them except the clouded gaze of a possessed man. This wasn't Guy of Gisburne or Guy of Huntingdon. This wasn't Guy at all. He was the man of clay Gulnar had set into motion, the man of clay over whom he had seized complete control.

Of all the men Gulnar could have possessed, it would have to be...

Gisburne's sword made another deadly swing.

Gisburne. Robin's worst enemy, the man who had wanted him dead since the first day they met: Guy of Gisburne. Guy of Gisburne and his obsession to put an end to every outlaw in Sherwood. Well, he wasn't going to put an end to this outlaw. Robin would do everything he could to make certain of that!

"Guy, we're on the same side," said Robin, making an attempt to break through to Gisburne. "We want the same thing. We want out of this castle and free of this time."

Gisburne remained silent, slicing the air with his sword a few times with frightening precision. But Robin believed that Gisburne could hear him, although his mind was deeply enveloped in the curtain of Gulnar's spell. Robin tried again.

"We had a truce, remember? We made a pact to help each other, to work together. Gulnar is your enemy right now, not me. You have to fight against him, Guy. You can't let him do this to you. Look at me! He'll destroy you if you don't listen!"

"Enough of this babbling!" yelled Clun, dismayed by the total lack of action on either side. "Why won't you fight?"

Gulnar moved out of his chair, and Robin saw that Gisburne's gaze was instantly upon the sorcerer.

"Kill him," commanded Gulnar.

_Kill Herne's son...Kill Robin Hood_ issued the order in Gisburne's head.

Robin saw the look of hatred intensify behind Gisburne's eyes.

Gisburne's sword crashed against Robin's. Robin blocked the blow, able to hold his stance long enough to make a thrust at his opponent. Then, Robin gasped in pain as Gisburne pried Robin's sword from his hand, almost wrenching his wrist off with it.

_Get the sword_, thought Robin quickly to himself. _Get the sword, or you're dead!_

Robin dove to the ground, grabbed his weapon, and rolled, hearing Gisburne's sword ring as it tried to strike him. A cheer went up from the crowd and some of the spectators found favour with Robin as their champion. Although neither Robin nor Gisburne knew it, men were making wagers all around the arena over which man would triumph.

The encouragement from the spectators seemed to goad Gisburne on. Robin wasn't even back on his feet when Gisburne's sword struck at him again. Robin rolled out of the sword's path, but only just in time. He looked in astonishment at a lock of his hair, cut away by Gisburne's sword. He had been that close to...

Gisburne's sword swooped down like a hawk overpowering its prey. But the prey wasn't as helpless as all that. Robin extended his legs and hooked them around Gisburne's knees, sending the knight to the ground. The spectators roared their approval, and Robin promptly found his footing again. However, so did Gisburne. Their weapons met again.

The two circled the ring, Gisburne attacking and Robin defending himself from the blows. Robin was starting to grow tired of all of this, but Gisburne fought as if the battle between them had just begun. Then, their weapons locked and stayed, Robin's wrist throbbing in slow agony. They broke apart.

Robin nursed his wrist, resting it in his other palm. Gisburne had paused for a moment, intently studying the ground as if calculating his next move. A hum of impatience emanated from the crowd. Some of the spectators yelled down in disgust. Robin was only too glad for an opportunity to catch his breath. What was Gisburne thinking about? What was running through his mind?

Gisburne suddenly lifted his eyes and smiled...If you could have called it that. Robin braced himself, though the attack came before he had a chance to defend himself properly.

With an incredible force, Robin was slammed against a wall. His legs gave out on him and he pitched forward onto his hands. For an alarming length of time, Robin felt quite senseless. Then, the clamour of Clun's guests pounded in his head. He had to get up. He had to get back on his feet, or he was a dead man. Robin shook his head to clear it then reached out to touch the cold clammy wall, raising himself back up on two shaky limbs. The cold hard lines of Gisburne's face were there to meet him.

Fury welled up inside of Robin, clouding his thoughts even more than the blow to his head. He practically threw his sword against Gisburne's, while the knight effortlessly pushed it back, the tip of his own sword biting Robin's cheek. Robin felt the sting of it, yet the blood dripped down his face, unnoticed. He's too strong, thought Robin, as it took all of his strength, and two arms backing his sword, to block Gisburne's carefree one-armed blows. This can't be him. He's too efficient. He fights too well. Even Guy of Gisburne needed to surrender once in awhile!

But Gisburne's strength and tenacity were unrelenting. Robin was sweaty and exhausted, yet Gisburne remained completely unaffected. Robin was beginning to think that he couldn't take much more of this. He began to wonder when the final stroke would come...

It was about to.

Gisburne lunged forward in a fierce attack. The two swords clashed and struggled, raised up above their owner's heads. Robin groaned as the weight behind Gisburne's sword was forced upon him.

"No!" exclaimed Robin. He was hurled to the ground, his sword flying all the way to the other side of the ring. Robin saw Gisburne tower over him, his sword arched lovingly in his hand.

_He's going to kill me_, thought Robin. _I'm going to die_.

Gisburne's unblinking eyes were fixed intently on his adversary. Robin faced Gisburne squarely, unwillingly to shy away from his fate. The shadow of his enemy's sword fell across him and Robin waited.

"Guy!" cried a voice in horror. "Guy, no!"

  


* * * * 

  
The spectators became silent at once, awed by the dramatic entrance they had just witnessed to the blood games. Robin looked up above him and saw Margaret gazing down at Gisburne anxiously.

"What are you doing?" said Margaret. "Guy, stop this at once! Guy!"

Gisburne hesitated as if he could register her voice somewhere in his mind.

"Guy!" cried Margaret.

Gisburne glared up at Margaret, as if frustrated by the fact that she was trying to ruin his victory. Then the slits of his eyes widened and he stared at Margaret, fixated.

Gulnar shrieked at Gisburne to kill Herne's son, but Gisburne heard and saw nothing but Margaret.

"Guy," repeated Margaret, so softly that she could barely be heard.

Gisburne slowly lowered his sword, and Robin rolled out of his way very carefully, rising even more guardedly to his feet. Gisburne still hadn't taken his eyes off of Margaret, but was studying her in complete wonder.

What did he see? What was it that she represented to him? Whatever affect Margaret had on Gisburne, it had saved Robin's life. _If I don't act now, her efforts will have been wasted_, thought Robin.

Robin knew it wasn't very sporting of him, but he saw no other choice. He crept up behind Gisburne and, with the blunt edge of his sword, hit Gisburne on the back of the head. Gisburne crumpled forward on the ground.

With another piece of perfect timing, Much and the other outlaws fell in behind Clun, their arrows notched and ready to fire. Loxley, Marion, John and Nasir also appeared. The man holding Will was forced to release him. However, it was Margaret who made the first move against Clun.

"I didn't think it was possible, but I hate you now even more than I did before," she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

"Hate is a strong word, Margaret," answered Clun, forging a brave grin on his face.

"Not strong enough."

Clun reeled back, taking the force of Margaret's fist as it pounded him in the face. Pain spasmed in Margaret's hand, but she ignored it, focusing instead on her brothers below her.

"Please help me," she said.

"Yes, my lady!" responded the outlaws, as if knowing what to expect from Margaret if they disobeyed her, citing Owen of Clun as an example. Will and John stepped forward. By each taking an arm, they found they could lower Margaret down to Robin. Robin caught Margaret by the waist, and she fell into his arms, embracing him.

"Robert! Robert! You came! You came!" cried Margaret.

Robin stroked Margaret's hair and managed to laugh. "By the look of things up there, I don't think I needed to."

"Oh, but you _did_ need to! I'm so glad you came! I can't believe you came!"

"What? You didn't expect me to leave you in this awful place, did you?"

Margaret raised her head from Robin's chest and looked up at him. "Robert, your face!"

"It's only a cut," said Robin, trying to reassure her, but Margaret was already dabbing Robin's cheek with the edge of her sleeve. Then Gisburne groaned. Margaret looked in his direction as if she had just remembered he was there. Robin released Margaret and she rushed to Gisburne's side. Margaret helped Gisburne sit up as he stared at his surroundings.

"What...?" gasped Gisburne, unable to remember what had just occurred, or how he had ended up in the arena. He was even more surprised to see the woman who knelt beside him.

_It couldn't be_, he thought, his mind still wrapped in confusion. It was impossible. But her face...her eyes...She looked so much like her...

"Margaret...?" Gisburne dared to ask.

Margaret nodded and smiled, then threw her arms around Gisburne. "I thought you were dead! Thank God, you're not dead! I'm so happy you're all right..." She started to weep, the tears she had been holding back for days flooding out.

"Comfort her," mouthed Robin to the bewildered knight, giving a jerk of his head towards Gisburne's hands. Gisburne slowly wrapped his arms around Margaret and did what he could, which wasn't much. It had been a good many years since he had actually tried to comfort anyone and he was terribly out of practice.

  


* * * * 

  
"My lord! My lord! An army of men are heading towards the castle!"

"What?" thundered Owen.

"It's a pity that Gulnar did not listen to me," said Marion to Loxley, loudly enough for Owen to hear them. "I told him that there was an army of men in the valley and he didn't believe me."

"Gulnar!" roared Clun. He leapt out of his chair and grabbed Gulnar by the shoulders. "You said there'd be no attack. You swore it was a lie, Gulnar!"

"It cannot be, my lord!" cried the sorcerer. "I would have seen it!"

"Well, you didn't see it, you fool!" Clun started to shake his servant violently.

"Master!" gasped Gulnar. "We must defend the castle!"

Owen looked around him and saw his guests stumbling around in panic. "I'm surrounded by cowards and idiots, Gulnar! Defend the castle, you say? With whom shall I defend it?" he shouted.

Gulnar struggled desperately as Clun's fury threatened to overwhelm him. Loxley watched the two in disbelief then sensibly focused his attention on the crowd of spectators around him.

"We have to get out of here," said Loxley to the outlaws. He looked down into the ring. "Robert!" he called.

Robin caught sight of Loxley and signalled that he understood. He turned quickly to Gisburne. "Get Margaret to safety!" he yelled as the first stream of attackers burst into the upper level of the amphitheatre. "The way is clear! Get out of here now!"

Gisburne, though still in a stupor, could recognize an attack in almost any state of consciousness. He pulled Margaret to her feet. "Run," he told her, and Margaret took Gisburne's hand, allowing him to lead her out of the castle.

Robin looked up into the stands, witnessing the onslaught of the battle. Then, he felt quite nauseous as his eyes fell upon the hideous corpse of Gulnar still sitting up in his chair. His master was lying on the ground beside him. He rapidly flicked his eyes away and saw the outlaws embroiled in the midst of the fighting. What if they shared the same gruesome fates as Clun and Gulnar?

"Jump!" shouted Robin, trying to catch Loxley's attention. He knew that the distance between the outlaws and the ring was safe enough to risk it since he had made the same jump himself. When he managed to alert Loxley, he repeated his suggestion. Loxley hesitated over this option for a moment but, as he now trusted his companion, he took no longer than that to make his decision.

Loxley began to herd as many of his men away from the fighting as he could, instructing them to leap down into the pit. At first, this proved to be difficult, as most members of the band had become engaged in fighting themselves. Nevertheless, three men managed to break free and leapt into the ring.

Once they had regained their footing, Robin ushered them through the same exit Gisburne and Margaret had followed out of the castle. Soon, a few more outlaws plunged into the arena and were told to escape from the castle too.

More of Clun's enemies flooded into the amphitheatre. Robin watched them enter in concern. His friends were still up on the higher level...

"Loxley!" hollered Robin.

Loxley saw the soldiers and managed to pull Much away from the fighting.  
"Jump!" he ordered.

"But what about you?" asked Much.

"Just do it!" shouted Loxley.

After putting up a struggle, Much was sitting at Robin's feet. He had been partially convinced, but mostly pushed into the arena. In a matter of seconds, John, Will and Nasir had landed beside them.

"Where's Marion and Loxley?" demanded Robin.

"Still up there," answered Will grimly.

Robin peered up at the platform and gave a start. "Marion!"

A very large and burly warrior was approaching Marion from behind, but she seemed to be aware of this fact already. The huge forearm was hardly around her when Marion grounded her heel into his toes and elbowed him sharply in the ribs. The warrior wheezed painfully, and Marion broke free from the battle.

Loxley managed to seriously wound the man he was fighting. He grabbed Marion by the arm before they both leapt into the arena.

"Marion, are you all right?" asked Robin and Loxley in unison.

"Yes, I'm fine," replied Marion, quickly shaking out her skirts.

"Can we get out of here now?" said Will.

Robin shook his head. "Wait. Two men still haven't come down."

"They won't be going anywhere," stated Loxley, bowing his head. "Adam and Hugh are dead."

John placed a hand on Loxley's shoulder. "They fought well and they were brave."

"There's nothing else you can do for them," added Will.

Marion took Loxley's hand. "Let's go home," she suggested, and the outlaws left the arena.

  


* * * * 

  
"They're Welsh," said Gisburne, once Robin had managed to spot him outside the castle.

"Welsh? Are you sure?"

"Well, they're not English! I'd know their colours from a mile away."

"I bet you do," muttered Will.

"They must be attacking Clun because he sided with King John," said Robin.

"Does it really matter?" asked Loxley. "Whoever they are, they're just as willing to kill us as they are to kill Clun's men."

"You're right," said Robin. "It doesn't make any difference to us. Where's Margaret?" he asked Gisburne.

"On the hill with that fat monk, Tuck, and the rest of them," answered the knight. "I found some horses for the journey," he added.

Robin raised an eyebrow as he studied the row of horses in front of them.  
"Welsh horses?"

"Does it matter?" replied Gisburne, almost looking sly.

"You're learning more quickly than I thought," admitted Robin with a laugh. They began to untie the horses from their posts.

"What on earth happened anyway?" asked Gisburne, suddenly observing Robin's bloody face and rather dishevelled clothing.

"You don't remember anything, do you?"

"Remember what?"

"We fought in that arena just now."

"We did what?" cried Gisburne. "The last thing I remember is--"

"Being with Gulnar?"

"Yes..."

They started to walk with the others, leading their newly acquired steeds up the hill.

"Gulnar possessed you," continued Robin. "He ordered you to kill me...Does any of this sound familiar?"

Gisburne shook his head. "What happened?"

"What usually happens when we fight. I knocked you out and won," replied Robin.

"Guy! Robert!" called Margaret, hurrying down the hill to meet her brothers. "When I saw all of those soldiers heading into the castle, I was afraid you wouldn't get out," she told Robin. Then, she eyed them both critically. "What was going on back there? Why were you both fighting?"

"It's all right, Margaret," said Robin. "We fought only because we had to. It's all over now."

"Well, thank goodness for that!" exclaimed Margaret. "I thought Guy was going to kill you!"

Now it was Gisburne's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Who won?" he asked coldly. He tugged his horse's bridle and continued past them up the hill.

"Robert, what's the matter with him?" demanded Margaret.

"Who? Guy? He's probably just tired. You know Guy..." said Robin, hoping that Margaret really didn't.

"Yes," conceded Margaret, though she still sounded doubtful. "It's as if he's a different person. He looks and sounds like Guy, yet it isn't him somehow. He's colder, Robert...like a stranger...He will barely even speak to me. Is he angry? Have I done something wrong?"

"No, of course not," said Robin quickly. "He...he hasn't been well..." He winced inwardly as he was forced, once again, to employ this very old excuse.

"Is it because of what Owen did to him that he's acting this way?" asked Margaret. "Because he almost died..."

"Yes, in a way," replied Robin, mixing truth with a lie.

"Is he very ill?" asked Margaret fearfully.

_Ill enough to have died_, thought Robin sadly, only too aware of the fact that the brother Margaret truly knew and loved was gone. Gisburne would have to replace him, whether he liked it or not. He would have to be her brother for as long as they remained in this time.

"He's fine now," said Robin, trying to lift Margaret's spirits.

Margaret gave a wan smile. "I'm sure you're right, Robert. He's my brother. He can't treat me like this forever..."

_You really don't know Guy_, thought Robin. _Hopefully, you won't get the chance to..._

"Robert! Are you coming with us, or not?" called Loxley.

"Come on," said Robin, and they continued up the hill.

"Robert, who are these people? They look like--"

Robin cut Margaret off with a smile. "Friends. They're our friends, Margaret."

  


* * * * 

  
"You still haven't told me how you got into the castle," said Loxley to his men.

One of the outlaws smiled. "It was all Much's doing."

"Much? Really? Good work, Much. How did you do it?"

Much smiled shyly, then, encouraged by his friends, he answered. "I can't tell you everything, can I?"

Loxley groaned while the others took turns thumping Much on the back.

They had reached the camp in Sherwood. Robin and Gisburne had agreed to stop long enough for Margaret to rest, but the outlaws had insisted that they stay for a meal. Robin soon found that he had no choice but to accept. He agreed not just because of his friends's insistence, but because Margaret wished it. Learning the true identities of her rescuers had not deterred her in any way from expressing her gratitude. Margaret expressed it a little too warmly, perhaps, if Robin could judge by the red in some of the men's cheeks.

"I don't know how to thank you," said Margaret. "You risked your lives to save me when there wasn't anyone among you who knew me very well."

"My lady, please," protested Loxley, whose modesty had made him the most vulnerable victim of all. "You don't need to thank us. You make too much of this."

"Nonsense," stated Margaret. "You did more for me than you'll ever realize." She smiled and looked at Marion. "Even you were there, Baroness."

"It's just Marion now, and it was all of us...and your brothers," replied Marion. "No, if you should be thanking anyone, it should be them."

"I know, but words don't seem to be enough."

"We're just glad to have you back again, aren't we, Guy?" said Robin.

Gisburne's head jerked up. "What? Oh, yes...of course." He had been trying hard not to listen.

"Well, I think you were very brave, Robert," Marion stated. "You not only helped your sister, but all of us...especially me...Thank you." She kissed Robin's cheek and, laughing, squeezed his hand. "We did it!" she whispered, and Robin returned her smile. He now knew that Marion finally felt safe from Azael and the Lords of Darkness and the haunting memories of her past.

Loxley didn't smile. He felt as if another piece of his heart had been wrenched from him by just watching the two of them. He rose silently and stole out of the camp. Gisburne saw him, but said nothing. It provided a tiny amount of satisfaction to know that there was at least one other man in the camp who felt as wretched as he did. And, although Loxley's misery was very different from Guy's, it ran almost as deep.

Loxley went farther into the forest, allowing guilt and remorse to trail closely behind him. He thought of the two companions he had lost and again felt guilty for their deaths. He had been unable to do anything to help them. All he had been able to do was watch them die.

Even Much, who had often been called a half-wit, had managed to find a way into Clun Castle. Loxley had relied on the merits of another: the man Marion loved, the man who succeeded where he had failed. The man Loxley believed was a better leader than himself.

Loxley knew what had to be done. He had to relinquish his title as Herne's son.

  


* * * * 

  
"Why do you come when you have not been called?" said Herne, appearing before his son at the foot of his cave.

Robin Hood went down on one knee and held Albion out before him.

"You are Herne's son."

"No! I have failed you. I am nothing. There is another. He must take my place."

"It is not his time to do so."

"Why? You said he would be leader. You said he was your son."

"He is my son and your successor, but this is not his time or place."

"Then why did you send for him?"

"To aid you. To help you find your strength and see your worth."

"I see nothing!"

"Then search deeper. You are the Hooded Man. You must lead them. You cannot deny your destiny. You are my son." Herne placed a hand on Loxley's shoulder. "Go now. Return to those who will follow you and fulfill your destiny. Go with my blessing."

Loxley turned and walked away, still unable to understand why he should be leader of the band. It angered him that Herne saw some purpose in his staying when Loxley believed that, up until now, his efforts had been futile. Why couldn't Herne see that? Why did he persist in claiming him as his son?

Loxley took his sword and threw it as far as he could.

"Robin!" Marion stepped through some trees and into Loxley's sight. She walked past him and picked up Albion, studying it as she carried it back to him.

"It's a beautiful sword," said Marion. "Why should you wish to throw it away?"

Loxley didn't answer.

"Robert's leaving. He wants to say goodbye."

"Then why aren't you with him?"

"I came to fetch you. He wants to say goodbye to _you_." Marion frowned. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing. You wouldn't understand."

"Wouldn't I? You might be surprised.

"Maybe I don't want to be." Loxley turned away. "You shouldn't be here. Hurry and catch Huntingdon before he leaves you behind."

"What?" Marion laid a hand on Loxley's arm. "Is that what you think? Look at me." Loxley's gaze slid back towards Marion slowly. "I told you. My place is here."

"It shouldn't be. You would be better off with him."

"Why? Because he lives in a castle?"

"Because he's in love with you. He can give you so much more than I can and I know you love him too."

"How do you know that?" gasped Marion.

"How could I not?" exclaimed Loxley. "It's been in front of my eyes for days now!"

Marion shook her head. "Then you must see things that neither Robert nor I can see."

Loxley spun around in surprise.

"Yes, I do have feelings for him...very strong feelings," said Marion, "but Robin of Loxley is the man I'm meant to be with. Robin of Loxley is the man I love."

Loxley's eyes widened and he gaped at Marion, astonished. "But--"

"But?"

"Why should you love me instead of Huntingdon?"

"I...I don't know. Why shouldn't I?"

"Why shouldn't you?" asked Loxley. "To start with, he's more brave and clever than I am. Look at the plan he came up with to get into Clun Castle! And he's a better leader than I'll ever be! The others followed him because they trusted him. He probably saved each of us a dozen times over! And...and he's done so many other things that I can't even name them all! He can give you so much, Marion. You should be with him."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

Marion sighed. "What you say isn't true. He isn't a better leader than you because he is not the leader of this group. You are. You decided what should be done. The men admire you. Robert may have come up with a great plan, but he didn't do it alone. You helped him. Without you, we might not...we _would_ not have succeeded.

"What about John and Nasir? Who accepted them when no one else in Nottingham would? Who befriended the cutthroat, Scarlet, and made him an honourable member of this band? Who risked his life to help a friend save his sister? Who retrieved the Silver Arrow? Who thought of his men before himself and fought the longest and hardest, so that they might escape from Clun Castle first? And who was brave enough to admit it when he was wrong? Who allowed me to stay and join the fight?"

Loxley opened his mouth to protest, but Marion pressed it shut with a finger.

"Do you love me?" asked Marion, carefully removing her finger.

"Yes...more than I can say, but--"

Marion covered Loxley's mouth again, sealing his words with a kiss. "This is our time," she said. "We are meant to be together."

"Just in this time?" asked Loxley cautiously.

"No. The love we share will never die, for we can never be parted."

Loxley took Marion's hand in his. "Nothing's forgotten--" he began.

"Nothing's ever forgotten," said Marion.

Loxley smiled, his countenance filled with wonder. Marion returned his smile, pushing a stray lock of hair back into place. Loxley stroked Marion's cheek gently.

Although it was nearing the end of summer, all they saw was the warmth and beauty of spring.

  


* * * * 

  
"Are you sure you can't stay any longer?" asked Loxley, as he and the other outlaws escorted their guests to the road leading out of Sherwood.

"I wish we could," replied Robin, "but my father will be concerned about Margaret."

"And the two of you if I know Father," added Margaret.

"Either way, I suppose we had better get back," said Robin. "Wouldn't you agree, Guy?" he added, tossing a glance over his shoulder.

_Why do you keep asking me as if I had some choice in the matter? You're the one making all of the decisions here, not me_, thought Gisburne furiously. He gritted his teeth.

"I hope you recover soon, my lord," said Loxley impishly to Gisburne, though he meant to be kind.

Gisburne saw it only as a slight. "You as well," he replied, hoping to add an insult of his own.

"Why, thank you, Guy!" Loxley beamed, touching the tender spot of his wound. "I appreciate that!"

Gisburne rolled his eyes. He would have grumbled something unmentionable if Robin hadn't politely intervened. He indicated that Guy might be better off waiting with Margaret by the roadside. Gisburne complied gruffly.

Robin said goodbye to each of the outlaws in turn and shook their hands. He lingered longer with John, Nasir, Will and Much, whom he had seemed to form a natural bond with, despite their ignorance of the strong friendship they held in the other time. Nevertheless, they only had kind words to say to Robin and the goodwill they expressed in their humble farewells was very touching. And, with a friendly bear hug from John, Robin realized that, in some very important ways, this time was not so very different from his own.

Included among the friends he was to leave behind was Tuck, who had decided that he could do more good in Sherwood any day than Nottingham Castle.

"Bless you, my son, and thank you," said Tuck, warmly grasping Robin's hand. "I hope you find what you've been searching for," he added in a solemn whisper.

Suddenly, Robin remembered that Tuck knew more than almost anyone else about the true nature of his quest. "I think I shall find it soon, Tuck," he answered, then he returned Tuck's blessing as well.

"Long life and happiness to you," said Loxley, as Robin came to stand before him. Marion quickly embraced him. Robin learned everything he needed to know from the tender look in her eyes. Robin and Loxley shook hands. As they did so, Robin couldn't help but noticing Loxley's arm as it circled gently around Marion's shoulders.

"I hope you will both be very happy."

Loxley and Marion stared at Robin in amazement, but Robin simply smiled. It wasn't for him to share the source of knowledge that revealed the future they would share.

"Herne protect you," said Loxley.

"Herne protect you."

"You will return one day, won't you?" asked Loxley, and Robin could see that he truly wished to see him again.

"Yes," replied Robin. "One day." He mounted his horse, and Gisburne and Margaret started to ride away. Robin turned back briefly, studying each face carefully.

"Goodbye," whispered Robin softly. "For now..."

  


* * * * 

  
They had hardly journeyed a mile when they were met by an army of men and the Earl of Huntingdon himself.

"Father!" exclaimed Margaret.

The Earl dismounted at once and lifted his daughter from her horse. "My dear girl," he cried, embracing Margaret tightly. "I feared that I might never see you again!"

"So did I," said Margaret. "I'm so happy to be free of that terrible place!"

"But how is that you are free, Margaret?" asked the Earl.

"Why, Guy and Robert of course." Margaret smiled up at her brothers.

Dark brows fell over dark eyes as the Earl trained his sight on his sons.  
"What sort of foolishness is this, then! You could have gotten yourselves killed!"

Robin and Gisburne exchanged weary glances as the Earl continued to scold them.

"Father, please," said Margaret, finding that even her gentle patience with her father's tirade was growing thin.

The Earl relented for his daughter's sake and, when he looked up at Gisburne and Robin, his expression softened. "All right," he stated gruffly. "I should just be relieved and happy to have you back." Gisburne looked away, feeling uncomfortable, but the Earl went on, nevertheless. "I was very concerned about both of you, as well as Margaret, and very upset when I couldn't find either of you...but this isn't the place to discuss this," he added, remembering the group of soldiers who were his witnesses.

Robin smiled, assuming that his father was willing to forget the subject. But this certainly wasn't the case. The Earl caught sight Robin's smile. It was a reminder of his son's previous impudence.

"We'll continue this discussion later, over supper tonight at Huntingdon Castle," said the Earl sternly, watching the smile on Robin's face slowly fade.

  


* * * * 

  
The ordeal of being the oldest son was apparent during supper that evening, as the Earl did indeed continue their discussion from the road. Not that this especially bothered Gisburne. He really couldn't understand what the Earl was talking about anyway and, furthermore, he didn't care. He found that the meal was excellent and agreeing very well with his palate, even if the general conversation wasn't.

"I always knew that Robert was stubborn and impetuous at times, but I at least expected a bit of sense from you, Guy! Oh, but I'd forgotten about the incident involving you, your brother, and that wild beast you call a horse!"

"My lord?" asked Gisburne, who had absolutely no idea what the Earl was talking about. However, the Earl continued, unabashed.

"It's bad enough that my only daughter should be taken from me, but to have my sons disappear without any word or notice--"

"Father, Guy tried to send word to you, but there was no reply," said Robin, trying to clear up matters since Gisburne was incapable of doing so himself.

"I received his letters," answered the Earl. "All three of them. But when I was finally able to reply, I found that my industrious correspondent was gone. Last I heard, you were dining with the Sheriff, and then you were gone in the night! Where did you go, boy? Don't you know how concerned I was about you?" he demanded. But Gisburne didn't hear the question. He was fuming over the fact that the Earl had had the audacity to call him "boy."

"My Lord of Huntingdon--" began Gisburne.

The Earl stared at him. "'My Lord of Huntingdon'?" he questioned.

_Oh, no_, thought Robin. Even when he had been furious at his father, he had never called him that!

"Aren't you being a little formal, Guy?" asked the Earl.

"My lord?"

_Not again_, groaned Robin to himself.

"You're angry with me, then, are you?" said the Earl, as if stating a challenge. Gisburne had no objections. Margaret did.

"Leave him alone, Father. He's tired and he hasn't been well."

"I'm fine!" snapped Gisburne, wishing to God Margaret would stop fussing.

"You don't look it," argued the Earl. "None of you look it."

"But we're safe now and reunited again," said Margaret. "Please, Father, can't we just leave it at that?"

"You're right, my dear. As always," replied the Earl, kissing the top of Margaret's head. But Robin could see a look of determination in his eyes, suggesting that he wasn't quite ready to let the subject rest. However, the conversation soon turned to lighter topics. For the moment, the Earl was willing to let the interrogation end.

His mood improved and he cheerfully proposed a toast to the safe return of his children, going so far as to apologize to Gisburne and Robin for treating them unfairly. Gisburne felt that it had to be the wine talking, not Huntingdon. He found the warmth and ease of those around him unnerving. It made him tense.

His stomach suddenly provided him with little appetite. The meal that had seemed so lavish was now unappealing. Only drink found favour with him because it numbed the senses and made the meal seem a little more bearable. But not much. He was completely unaccustomed to dealing with a father who actually loved his son...

"Guy?" said the Earl, who had been watching Gisburne and wondering what was troubling him.

Gisburne raised his head and he contemplated whether he could hide the fact that he hadn't been listening. "My lord?"

_My lord_, thought Robin angrily. _Still not "father"_. Gisburne had been able to pass himself off as a brother, but he would not provide his father with a few hours of happiness, now, while he still could. Robin gave Gisburne a look, but the knight saw nothing. Even if he had, he would never call the Earl of Huntingdon "father". Not while he believed he still possessed none.

"Guy," repeated the Earl, "is something the matter?"

"What? Of course not," answered Gisburne.

"But...ever since you returned, you have seemed..." The Earl let his sentence trail, though his eyes regarded Gisburne earnestly. "Guy..." He sighed. "Did something happen while I was away?"

"No, Father," said Robin.

"I was asking Guy," stated the Earl curtly, keeping his gaze on Gisburne constant. But it made no difference to Guy. He had been tried by harder tactics than that. The Earl decided to surrender for the moment, though he still refused to give up on one point. "Did you truly seek help from outlaws? From Robin Hood and his men?"

Gisburne turned to Robin, uncertain how to answer that question.

"Yes," replied Robin, seeing no reason why they should lie. "We needed their help. We couldn't have saved Margaret without them."

"But I had men...It wasn't as if you were powerless..."

"Your men would have made us powerless. We entered the castle by stealth, not force."

"Hmm..." said the Earl with a growl, "but to ally yourselves with outlaws...Could you not have found other men to help you?"

"Father, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Robin Hood and his men," stated Margaret, as the men sitting around the table suddenly focused their attention back on her. "They are good kind people. Instead of chastizing Guy and Robert for seeking their help, you should be grateful."

"Grateful because they succeeded where I failed?" asked the Earl quietly.

"Grateful because they cared as much as you did about rescuing me from Owen. I know what you were going to do for me, Father. Owen told me all about it. He said you were foolish, and you were, but it proved to me how much you love me...That you would be willing to sacrifice your life for me."

"I would sacrifice my life for all of you," said the Earl, looking humble for once as his eyes moved around the table.

Margaret clasped her father's hand. "Yes," she agreed, "as each of us would for you. As Robin Hood pledged to do when he agreed to help Guy and Robert."

The Earl grimaced then graced his children with a smile. "It would seem as if this scoundrel Robin Hood has won poor Margaret's heart."

Margaret laughed and an almost mischievous twinkle flashed behind her eyes. "Adversity proves who are our friends, Father."

Gisburne dropped the dagger he had been eating with and stared across at Margaret, startled. That was a phrase his mother once used. It was a phrase he had hoped never to hear again. He pushed back his chair and left the hall.

  


* * * * 

  
"Guy!" shouted his father. "Guy, come back here at once!"

Margaret rose to pursue Gisburne, but Robin made her stay.

"No, let me," said Robin angrily. He walked out into the corridor and caught up with Gisburne before the knight reached its end.

"You could have at least tried to be friendly towards them, but that was too much for you, wasn't it? You couldn't have even pretended could you, Gisburne?"

"Why?" snapped Gisburne. "Must everyone in your family be happy?" He crossed his arms and glared down at the floor, feeling very ill at ease.

"It's her, isn't it?" said Robin. "Margaret..."

"That strumpet?"

"Strumpet!" Robin laughed. "Guy, she's your sister!"

"That woman is not my sister!" snarled Gisburne. "She is as much my sister as you are my brother, meaning not at all!"

"Why not?"

"Why not!"

"Why couldn't she be your sister?" asked Robin bluntly.

"Because it's--" Gisburne had been about to say impossible, that it would have been impossible for his mother to have had another child because Edmond of Gisburne couldn't give her any, and that he himself was a...Some secrets were meant to be hidden, thought Gisburne, especially when those secrets were about himself!

"She isn't my sister," repeated Gisburne quietly. "I don't have any family, Wolfshead. My family is dead." He looked down again, finding Robin's gaze disconcerting. "When are we leaving here?" he asked, wanting terribly to change the subject he had fallen into.

For a moment, Robin wasn't sure what to say, but then he could hear Herne's prophecy droning in his head.

_"Together they must be. Together to be free...Brother must aid brother before the Wheel shall turn...When it is done, you will come to me, to a place and time of our knowing...You will know. You have always known..."_

"First light...The Wheel...Rhiannon's Wheel..." Robin answered, as the time and place of their journey's end suddenly flashed before his eyes. It was where it had all began and where it now had to end. What he had always known was that, one day, like Loxley, he would have to face the Wheel's power, to face his very destiny...

"Good..." said Gisburne warily, as Robin slowly emerged from the trance he seemed to be under. Gisburne began to walk away.

"We'll leave by midnight," called Robin. "I'll make sure to wake you!"

"Don't worry," responded Gisburne. "You won't have to." Then Gisburne was gone. To Robin's chagrin, he realized that he hadn't come any closer to understanding Gisburne, although they had just spent more time in each other's company over the past few days than they had ever spent together in their entire lives. Robin convinced himself that it was probably better this way. He returned to the hall to try to explain Gisburne's behaviour, despite his inability to understand it himself.

"I just don't understand it," said the Earl as Robin entered. "I have never seen Guy act this way before."

"What could I have said to upset him?" asked Margaret, looking upset herself.

"Nothing," replied Robin, attempting to console Margaret and his father. "He's just--"

"Yes, I know," said the Earl. "Tired and unwell...Well, Robert, I think it was more than that. Guy was like a different person...a stranger...I know my son. The man who dined with us this evening wasn't him."

"Oh, Father, come on!" protested Robin, beginning to feel uneasy about his father's admission.

"It was his eyes. He hardly looked at me, but, when he did, the eyes I saw did not know me. They were so distant and..." The Earl swallowed then bowed his head. "Margaret has told me what happened at that place...about how you were both engaged in that fight..."

"Father--" said in Margaret in concern.

"No. I have to know. Did Guy truly wish you dead?"

"Of course not," replied Robin, vastly twisting the truth.

The Earl wasn't easily fooled. "Robert..."

"He was possessed. He couldn't help it. He was made to do it."

"Clun ordered him to kill his own brother?" gasped the Earl, before the rest of what Robin had said became clear to him. "Possessed!" he cried at last. "Is that why he...Is he still...?"

"Under their power?" asked Robin. "No, their power over him is broken."

"Can you be certain of that? I mean...Look at him!"

"Father," said Margaret gently, "if something was really the matter with Guy, don't you think Robert would tell us? He has always been honest with us, so why should he lie to us now?"

Robin felt a terrible pang of guilt because of Margaret's complete trust in him, but, at the same time, he knew that the truth, in this instance, would hurt more than his lies. If they discovered that the true Guy of Huntingdon was dead, it would surely devastate them. No, this was just one more secret Robin would have to keep.

"I'm sure he'll be back to his old self by morning," said Robin. His old self in his old time, Robin hoped.

  


* * * * 

  
Just before the appointed time, there was a quiet knock on Gisburne's bedroom door. Gisburne appeared, the light from his candle casting deep shadows across his face.

"Are you ready?" asked Robin in a whisper.

"Not yet. There are still some things we need to discuss."

"We can talk about it on the journey."

"No. I'm not leaving here unless we discuss them now."

"But I thought you were the one who wanted to get out of here, Gisburne."

"I do, but I want to be certain about what I'll be returning to. And if I don't hear the kinds of answers I want to hear, neither one of us will be leaving here."

"Even with Margaret?" asked Robin.

Gisburne pretended not to hear him.  
"All right then," said Robin, "let's talk about it." He walked past the knight into the chamber, and two eyes watched Gisburne shut the door.

  


* * * * 

  
Margaret watched Guy admit Robert into his chamber and shut the door. She had hoped to speak to Guy herself. She had almost been outside his door when she had heard both her brothers speaking in a whisper. She had wondered what they could possibly be discussing, but felt she had little right to eavesdrop. She had been about to return to her own chamber when she observed Robert entering Guy's room. There had been something furtive in their movements, and Margaret found she was intrigued by it all.

Margaret had been so distressed by Guy's behaviour that sleep had been impossible. She sincerely believed that Guy was in some kind of trouble and she wanted to help him. She had also witnessed his animosity towards her and wished to discover why he was angry with her.

Margaret moved closer to her brother's lighted doorway. She found that she was trying to listen to the hushed conversation despite herself. She couldn't quite make out their words, but by the tone she detected in their voices, it seemed that they were spending more time arguing than engaging in friendly conversation.

What could they possibly be quarreling about at this hour?

The voices eventually became hushed, and Margaret had to strain her ears to catch anything. Then, she heard the sound of a hand falling upon the latch of the door. She sprinted into hiding.

"You won't need the candle," stated Robin to Guy. "I know this castle well enough."

Guy acquiesced and blew out his candle, bending down on his haunches to place it carefully on the floor. Margaret listened to the soft echoes of her brothers' footfalls as they walked down the silent corridor. They were both fully dressed and heading in the direction of the stables, which could only mean one thing: they were planning to leave Huntingdon Castle.

Margaret was dressed in barely more than a shift, but she was determined to follow them and decipher what all of this plotting was about. She threw on a cloak and ventured out of the castle in pursuit of her brothers. Unfortunately, by the time she reached the stables, Robin and Guy had already left. She watched the silhouette of their forms as they passed through the gates and rode off in a gallop.

Margaret knew that she had to catch up with them somehow, but getting past the gate in only a shift and cloak was going to be a challenge. And the fact that she was the Earl of Huntingdon's daughter made everything all the more difficult. However, as she entered the stables to find her horse, she spotted something that would make her task much easier.

When Margaret emerged from the stables again, she was dressed in the guise of the stable boy, wearing his trousers and rather oversized boots. Her clothing felt odd, but with her hair tied back, and most of the rest of her hidden under a hooded cloak, she believed that she could fool the guards at the gates.

She delivered a fairly good imitation of the stable boy's voice and manner, stating that it was imperative that she find the Earl's sons. She succeeded in getting past the guards and discovering what direction her brothers had headed off in. Her only concern now was not to lose them.

But Margaret had spent more time in the stables than any of her family knew, or might have wished. She might not have shared her older brother's interest in the hunt, but she did share his keenness for horses. She was also endowed with much of his skill and, although she had never managed to get Guy to admit it, she could, at times, outride him as well.

  


* * * * 

  
They reached Rhiannon's Wheel shortly before daybreak. Dismounting their horses, they moved into the center of the ancient stones.

"What happens now?" asked Gisburne, trying not to appear nervous by the eery silence of his surroundings. Robin smiled as he read the knight's discomfort.

"Herne, the pagan forest god, shall come and make this pile of old stones turn," answered Robin, remembering some of Gisburne's previous remarks.

"Well, I can't see anything," said Gisburne.

"Can't you?"

Mist had started to billow towards them, gliding swiftly up to their knees and around the ancient stones. Before Gisburne could understand any of it, Herne was before them. Gisburne did not say another word.

The sun slowly began its ascent. The sky transformed itself from inky darkness to the beauty of rosy gold daylight. Herne raised his arms and the stones began to rumble, then turn.

  


* * * * 

  
As the great stones started to rotate, Robin felt the ground momentarily shift beneath his feet. Everything in his vision seemed to blur. Robin distinctly heard the stones whirr as they rushed past him. He had the sensation of being trapped in a powerful storm, but he wasn't afraid. The only startling moment was when he thought he saw a woman's face whirl past him, but it appeared almost as quickly as it disappeared. Then, everything else around him seemed to fade as well. Robin could only see a massive streak of grey thundering around him.

  


* * * * 

  
The Wheel stopped. Everything was still once more. The sun had ascended past the horizon. It was now day. Robin gazed around him. For an instant, he wasn't sure what was wrong. Then he realized: Gisburne was gone.

Robin scanned the field, thinking that Gisburne might have somehow fled from the Wheel without him knowing it. But there was no sign of the knight anywhere. Had Gisburne not made it back, or had he been safely restored to his place as the Sheriff's steward at Nottingham Castle? Had he been removed from existence again...?

If Gisburne had not returned to this time, there was nothing Robin could do for him now.

Robin mounted his horse and headed towards Sherwood and his friends.

  


* * * * 

  


** Chapter Eleven **

  
Gisburne woke and looked wildly about. He was in his own bed in his own chamber, but he had no recollection of how he had gotten there. The last thing he could remember was walking into the center of Rhiannon's Wheel with Robin Hood and...

He got out of bed and dressed quickly. He had to discover what had happened, find out how everything had turned out. Was he safe now, or had he been thrown into deeper peril? He didn't know what day it was, let alone if it was morning or night.

He didn't know where he should be heading either, but his instincts led him in search of the Sheriff. If there was anyone in the castle who could sort him out, it had to be de Rainault. Gisburne stopped a servant and asked him where he could find the Sheriff. He gained directions and headed across the courtyard. Then, he heard the Sheriff shouting. He knew where he was for certain.

"Gisburne!" hollered de Rainault. "Gisburne!"

It was _his_ name! The Sheriff didn't think he was Guy of Huntingdon anymore!

_This could mean trouble_, thought the knight, as he remembered that Guy of Gisburne's lot hadn't been too favourable before he had left. And his head wasn't in the most secure position. It might still end up on the block. However, at this point, Gisburne felt he had little else to lose.

He grasped a hold of what remained of his courage. He walked into the room de Rainault was occupying, just managing to avoid being hit by the messanger de Rainault shoved out of the room.

"Ah, Gisburne," said the Sheriff. "A little hard of hearing, are we? I thought you'd be in your armour. Isn't there that wretched tournament today? You're on the Earl of Derby's team."

The tournament? But that would have been days ago...

"You know," continued the Sheriff, in the same angry verbatim, "I don't employ you to prance around the countryside getting your head knocked off, whilst I stay here in Nottingham slaving away from cockcrow to sunset!"

Gisburne gaped at the Sheriff in astonishment. They had had the exact same conversation on the day when all of his troubles had first begun.  
Could this be his chance to amend everything...?

"Well?" demanded the Sheriff, further irritated by Gisburne's silent stare. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"Yes, my lord," answered Gisburne, carefully calculating his reply. "I...I wasn't planning to go to the tournament. As you said before, there are much more important matters to be dealt with in Nottingham."

"What?" Now it was the Sheriff's turn to be awe-stricken. "Good God, man, are you ill? You've been badgering me about that tournament for days and now you're telling me it doesn't matter?"

"Yes, my lord," said Gisburne calmly. "With a war in Wales, we will have to collect grain from the villages for the King's army and--"

"How do you know about that when I've only just received the King's letter myself?" replied the Sheriff in surprise.

How did he know? Perhaps a better question should have been: How could he possibly explain this previous knowledge to the Sheriff?

"Gisburne, you haven't been reading letters addressed to me before I have, have you?" asked the Sheriff, his voice betraying both suspicion and malice.

"No, of course not, my lord!" protested Gisburne.

"Then, pray tell me how you could have possibly known about the war in Wales, Gisburne."

"Well, my lord..." began the knight.

"Yes, Gisburne...?" drawled the Sheriff.

"Well, it was only a few nights ago when you said you were certain there would be a war," said Gisburne, quickly inventing a lie.

"I said that?" asked the Sheriff.

Gisburne took a deep breath and plunged into an even deeper lie. "Yes, my lord. When I saw the messenger just now, and the King's seal upon the letter, I just assumed--"

"You just assumed that, in this letter, the King was demanding grain from the villages?"

"Yes, my lord," replied Guy hoarsely.

"Hmm...you must be more observant than I've given you credit for," stated the Sheriff, who believed that if Gisburne had really read the letter before he had, which would have been next to impossible, the guilt would have been plastered all over his face. Gisburne would never have been able to lie effectively about it.

The Sheriff concluded that he must have spoken his suspicions aloud to Gisburne then simply forgot about it. After all, he had been drinking rather heavily a few nights ago. How could he be expected to keep an accurate account of the evening? It was shocking enough that Gisburne had! De Rainault figured that there had to be a lie somewhere in Gisburne's story, but, at the moment, he didn't have the patience to go looking for it. He passed the letter to Gisburne.

"I see no purpose in having you read this, since you seem to know so much about it already, but here it is..."

Gisburne unrolled the parchment pretending to make a careful study of the letter he had already read through before.

"If the King's army needs grain, it's up to us to provide it, isn't it, Gisburne?" said the Sheriff.

"Yes, my lord."

  


* * * * 

  
"Lad, where have you been? We've been looking all over for you!" Little John laid his large but gentle hand on his leader's shoulder. Robin, who had just entered the camp, grinned as his friends began to crowd around  
him, questioning the absence they believed had been but a few hours.

"I was with Herne," replied Robin, making a statement that wasn't far from the truth.

"With Herne were you?" said Will. "Since when has he kept you away this long? Where were you really? Come on. You can tell us."

Tuck nodded. "Aye, Robin, we'll understand."

"Tell us," said Much.

"Well..." began Robin, suddenly feeling very tempted to tease them, "I woke during the night and met up with Gisburne, who decided how nice it would be if we went riding together."

His friends stared at Robin, looking completely taken aback.

"You did what?" shouted Will. "With who?"

Robin instantly felt himself go cold. They didn't know who Gisburne was, which meant that the knight couldn't have returned to his own time. Once again, he had messed up everything! Robin suddenly feared that he was going to go mad, but, then, the outlaws began to laugh and John thumped him on the back.

"That's a good one, Robin! I'll have to remember that!"

"Yeah," agreed Will. "That must have almost been as good as the night I dined with the Sheriff!"

"Aye, John, but not nearly as exciting as the time I attended that feast of King John's," piped up Tuck.

"Or the time I went hunting with him!" said Much.

"Or the time I fought beside Saladin," added Nasir. The outlaws' laughter grew louder.

Robin joined in too, both relieved and amused that his story had been accepted without further question. However, when the last member of the band entered the camp, the truth about his previous whereabouts was one of the last things on Robin's mind.

"Robin!" said Marion. "There you are!"

"Marion, it's you!" cried Robin.

"Of course, silly. Who else would it be?" Marion studied Robin in confusion. Robin was practically grinning from ear to ear.

She had returned to Sherwood. She wasn't in Halstead Priory anymore...

"Robin, where have you been?" demanded Marion. "We haven't been able to find you anywhere! You've been missing all morning!"

"Oh, it's all right, Marion," replied Will. "He only went riding with Gisburne last night."

The others began laughing anew.

"Gisburne, was it?" said Marion. "Well, I believe that, for once, I'm less angry with him than I am with you!"

"Uh, oh..." murmured Will and John.

"Marion, let me explain..." began Robin.

"Explain! If you explain to anybody, it should be to Matthew. He came here for an archery lesson and instead he had to help us search for you!"

"Matthew?"

"Aye, Will made him his own bow and everything," stated John. "Didn't you, _Uncle Will_?"

"Shut up," grumbled Scarlet.

"Today?" asked Robin. "Matthew was supposed to come here today?"

"Aye, Robin, you said you'd teach him yourself," Tuck said.

But surely the day he had promised that had been the day when his problems with Gulnar and Fenris had first began. If this was so, then he had also made it back to this time before Marion had left Sherwood and Wickham had been destroyed...Wickham...His place right now was in Wickham...He started to walk away.

"Robin!" cried Marion. "Where are you disappearing to now?"

"Wickham," replied Robin. "Are you coming?"

All of his friends seemed unsure what to think, except Will, who was prepared, as always, to provide his leader with a quick and ready answer.

"I'm coming," said Will. "With the adventures you've been having lately, I'd hate to be left behind!"

  


* * * * 

  
Robin gazed at Wickham's simple huts and its struggling crops. Next to Sherwood, this was the most beautiful place he had ever laid eyes on. Robin had feared that he would never be able to rid himself of the horrific memory of the burnt and charred remains of Wickham's huts, or the lifeless faces of the people who had represented its destruction. But when he saw the village of Wickham standing intact, and looking more proud than he had ever known it to look before, he understood that such terrible memories could be dealt with, though never forgotten.

He may have helped save Wickham from the ravages of Fenris by entering another time, but it was through his neglect in this time that the villagers had suffered. Robin swore that he would never allow that to happen again. He had another chance. This time, he would do all he could to set things right. It was his duty as Herne's son and, the friend of every village, Robin Hood.

"Greetings, Robin!" said Edward, quickly approaching the group. "Matthew said you'd gone missing. I'm glad to see you've been found."

"So am I," answered Robin.

"Well, we're not," joked John. "You're welcome to have him if you'd like."

"We'd love to have him here," replied Edward, beaming.

"That's very good of you, Edward," said Tuck.

"Not really. We owe him that much at least...and more. He's helped us many times in the past. You all have."

"We were glad to do it, Edward," said Marion, placing an arm fondly around Matthew's shoulders as the boy and his mother came to stand beside them.

"Aye, we know it, and we appreciate it more...Well, more than words could ever show."

"Thank you, Edward," replied Robin, feeling very touched.

"Hold on, I'm not finished," said Wickham's thane.

"Oh. Sorry, Edward."

"You're also young and strong and you have a good back. We could use your help getting all of this work done in the village."

The outlaws laughed.

Robin smiled. "Any time."

"Well, you could help us with this digging, then, Robin," said one of the villagers with a groan.

Robin turned his head to see a couple of Wickham's inhabitants with shovels in their hands and a pile of dirt at their feet.

"Wolves?" asked John, who, as a shepherd in Hathersage, had had much more experience dealing with them than he would have liked.

"It's supposed to keep the wolves away from the village," replied Edward. "We lost animals three days in a row."

"There's far more wolves in Sherwood now," stated John.

"Never seen so many wolves," added Tuck.

"I'd set fires around the village if I were you, Edward," said John.

"Tried to. Makes no difference. We lost six more goats at dawn."

"Six!" exclaimed Robin, leaping into a conversation that had originally taken place without him.

"Aye," said Edward. "It's bad enough we've had a bad harvest this year. Got everyone worried. That and the wolves..."

"The Sheriff!" cried a villager in warning.

"More wolves," muttered Edward.

The outlaws quickly dodged for cover, spreading themselves out to hide in and between the huts. As Robin looked around for a suitable piece of cover for himself, he spied Marion on the other side of the village with Alison and Matthew. Suddenly, he realized that she hadn't heard the shout of warning.

"Marion!" yelled Robin, running towards her. One could distinctly see the figures of the Sheriff and Gisburne, escorted by a large group of soldiers. They were heading down the hill towards them. Robin grabbed Marion's hand and pulled her under a broken cart that lay on the far side of the mill. Then, with bated breath and pounding hearts, they waited anxiously for their enemies to arrive, praying they would leave as quickly as possible.

"My Lord Sheriff, my lord," said Edward, greeting the Sheriff and Gisburne unenthusiastically as the two men reached the village threshold. He began to walk between the two lords's horses as they rode into Wickham.

"I've come for your grain," stated the Sheriff.

"How much of it, my lord?" asked Edward.

"All of it."

"All of it, my lord? There's been a poor harvest, my lord--"

"I don't want a speech, Edward. Where is it?"

"In the mill, my lord," admitted Edward sadly.

The Sheriff glanced at Gisburne, and the knight realized that this was the order to fetch the grain. He motioned to his men and they moved towards the mill.

As he watched the grain being loaded into the wagon, Gisburne thought about how uncanny it was to be repeating all of this, to be reliving this one moment in time all over again. Even the conversation between the Sheriff and Edward had seemed the same, replayed word-for-word.

"Come on, you idiots. Hurry up and load the wagon. We haven't got all--" Gisburne immediately cut short his words when he remembered saying the exact same thing before...on the day his neck, and the head it was attached to, had first fallen into danger. Gisburne kept his mouth shut, wishing, if possible, not to repeat any of the same actions, even if they had had no connection with his previous downfall.

Gisburne stopped badgering the villagers and allowed the Sheriff to do it in his place. Gisburne could hear de Rainault arguing with Edward and Alison as he directed his horse from the present scene he found himself emersed in. The knight rode to the other side of the mill with the pretense of checking for a hidden supply of grain. He didn't realize what he was about to find instead.

Robin and Marion spotted Gisburne and froze as his keen eyes fell upon the derelict cart and the two outlaws lying beneath it. For an instant, neither party seemed to know what to do. Then Gisburne tilted his head slightly to one side. A smile slowly crept across his face as he toyed with the idea of arresting them. Robin met his gaze squarely, deciding that it could prove deadly to look away or show any sign of fear. He trailed a finger across his neck, reminding the knight of one reason why they had been forced to work together. However, it was the glint of metal Gisburne detected from the corner of his eye that made him reconsider. And it was experience, rather than any kind of insight, that warned Gisburne that an arrow was trained at his back.

Gisburne wisely chose to wait another day to catch his enemy and reap his revenge. He gave Robin a sign that he was still willing to keep to his side of their agreement. He wheeled his horse back around to join the Sheriff, who had begun to shout for him impatiently.

Robin glanced at Marion. He noticed that she was staring at the knight's retreating form.

"What is it?" asked Robin.

"I could have sworn that Gisburne just looked at us and winked!" exclaimed Marion in an excited whisper.

"What?" said Robin, feigning surprise. "Gisburne? No, you must have imagined it, Marion. When did Gisburne ever wink at anyone? No, he must have had a speck of dirt in his eye."

  


* * * * 

  
Once the Sheriff and Gisburne had left, seeking the next victim of King John's tyranny, the outlaws reappeared. They immediately began to discuss the situation in a very serious manner.

"What will they do without bread?" asked Tuck.

"Nothing," answered Will, dispiritedly.

"They'll never make it through the winter," said John.

Marion bit her lip anxiously. "We have to do something!"

John gazed back at Marion helplessly. "What can we do?"

"Get the grain back," replied Nasir, as if the matter was a perfectly simple one.

"How?" asked Much.

"Well, we steal it back, don't we?" said Will.

"How?" asked John, repeating Much's question.

"We'll gather together all of the villagers of Wickham," Robin told John. "It's their grain that has been taken. They should have as much say in this as we do." He glanced at Much. "Gather everyone together."

"What should I tell them?"

"Tell them we're going to get their grain back," said Robin.

  


* * * * 

  
Robin knew that they had previously managed to retrieve the grain from Grimstone Abbey. After defeating Gulnar and his followers, they had come across enough grain to replace the amount that had been lost, but to Robin that wasn't important. He felt that, as before, injustice had to be dealt with. The villagers had to stand up to the Sheriff and Gisburne if they were to get their grain back. Besides, Robin reasoned, Wickham wasn't the only village that had had a bad harvest. The surplus of grain could easily be used for the good of other villages in the shire. Nevertheless, Robin remembered the promise he had made to Gisburne.

Robin had pledged that, no matter what happened, he would not steal the grain from Attlebury Grange. Gisburne swore that if Robin did, he would most certainly make him pay for it. Not that this alarmed Robin. He had never really paid much attention to any of Gisburne's threats. However, as unwilling as Gisburne had been to do it, he had kept to his side of their bargain: even when he had had the perfect opportunity to kill two of his enemies. Not that he had been given much choice under the circumstances, with Scarlet's arrow aimed at his back.

Robin didn't think that Guy of Gisburne was the type of man to accept martyrdom when he could keep his own life intact. But Gisburne's morals did not concern him. Robin's concern was for the welfare of Wickham.

He made a quick assessment of those before him and began to deliver a similar speech to the one he had given previously. He explained to the villagers the need to fight for their grain and the grain belonging to Aldbury and Leaford. He told the villagers that the battle against oppression was something he and his friends could no longer fight alone. Then Robin asked the villagers who would join them. After a moment's indecision, and a strong reprimand from Edward, every man stepped forward to volunteer his services.

"Why don't we attack the wagons?" suggested Edward, as the outlaws and villagers began to discuss a plan.

"We couldn't on open country," argued Will.

"We'd have to get the grain before it left for Newark," said John.

"What? You mean steal it from Attlebury?"

"No!" cried Robin, remembering what he had promised. It couldn't be done that way again...

"Then how are we going to do it?" demanded Will impatiently.

"We must get the grain on its way to Newark...Draw their attention away from it somehow..."

"But how?" said Tuck. "They wouldn't leave the grain unguarded, unless they were ordered to by the King himself."

Suddenly, Robin's eyes widened and his expression harboured a satisfied smile.

"What is it, Robin?" asked John, who could read a hint of excitement in his friend's face.

"I think I have an idea," said Robin.

  


* * * * 

  
"Do you really think this will work?" asked Marion, as she and her friends gathered at the bridge on Newark's road.

"You're the most comely lass I've ever seen," stated John sincerely.

"Too comely for the likes of King John!" grumbled Will.

"Just about any woman would be," said Robin, "but his soldiers won't know that. Marion, you have nothing to worry about. If you remember, King John was quite taken with you. You really captured his eye..."

"And a few other things we won't mention," muttered Scarlet.

"Will!" said Marion. She needed no reminders from either of them about King John. Her skin still crawled when she thought about him. She turned to Robin and made an attempt at a good-natured smile. "I don't have to be concerned about fooling the King this time. I have to fool his men and, in these clothes, I don't know if I can!"

Robin stole a quick glimpse at her and thought she looked as beautiful as ever, which did little to ease his mind. Robin had not approved of Marion's willingness to play the main part in his plan, though he knew how clever her idea had been.

He could understand why she might start having doubts about all of this, although her anxiety did not arise out of any fears for her own safety. She was only concerned that she might not be able to play her part convincingly and crush the hopes of her friends and the villagers of Wickham.

"They're coming," called Nasir from his post.

"If you don't want to do this, Marion..." began Robin.

"No," said Marion. "I must do it. I'll be fine. Really, Robin."

"All right, then, but if you need us at all--"

"I'll call out."

Robin took Marion's hand and squeezed it in encouragement. Then he kissed her quickly and took his place with the others in a ditch by the roadside.

Marion lifted her skirts and began to run towards William Brewer and the guards who made up a portion of King John's fighting men.

  


* * * * 

  
William Brewer found himself in a surprisingly amiable mood as he accompanied King John's soldiers and the heavily guarded wagon full of His Majesty's newly acquired grain. It gave him a sense of pride and satisfaction to know that he had earned his sovereign's admiration and, hopefully, his gratitude, in no less than monetary terms. It seemed rather miraculous, he thought, considering the past record of incompetencies by that shifty little man, de Rainault, and his brainless lout of a steward, Guy of Gisburne.

He remembered the mixture of lies that had been woven by the two over the years, stories placing the blame for their failures squarely on the shoulders of that cutthroat, Robin Hood, and those other filthy vagabonds. Why, even a knight's daughter had been implicated in their excuses for corruption, as if one woman could possibly be capable of all the feats that were attributed to her.

He found the stories of the outlaws hard enough to fathom without the addition of some woman to further muddle up matters...or maybe she served to clear them up. Surely such tales could be proved false if a lady appeared as a character in them!

Brewer could not understand why the King even bothered listening to de Rainault, or why he allowed him to remain in his employ. Brewer almost wished that the Sheriff had lost the grain so that he might have the pleasure of removing his head and possibly the head of that thing de Rainault called his steward...!

"My lord," said the captain of the guard. "My lord, look!"

"What is it?" asked Brewer impatiently. He scanned the road in front of him and saw the figure of a woman hurrying towards them. "God's Throat," he cursed, as she arrived breathlessly before them.

"My lord!" gasped the lady. "My lord! You must come at once! The King is in danger!"

"The King? Woman, are you mad?" thundered Brewer.

"No, my lord. You must believe me! The King was travelling from Newark when he fell under attack! A large group of men surrounded us--"

"Impudent wench! Do you really expect me to believe that you were among those in his party?"

"Why, yes, my lord. I'm...I'm..."

"Yes?"

"One of his...diversions, my lord..."

There was a ripple of laughter among the men but, with a cold look from Brewer, it quickly ended.

"Tell me," said Brewer, "why would anyone dare to harm the King?"

"I don't know, my lord. The men were shouting about grain. They said King John...His Majesty...had stolen it from their villages and seized it from their children's mouths."

The soldiers started to look uneasy, and the captain of the guard cleared his throat.

"My lord, we must go to the King at once," said the captain.

"What? Are you telling me that you are prepared to believe the word of this harlot?" asked Brewer harshly.

"My lord, if you distrust me so, send two men to verify my story," the woman replied, with equal sharpness.

Brewer hesitated then reluctantly gave his consent. Two men broke from the line and took off down the road. It wasn't long before they returned, excited and out of breath.

"She's right, my lord!" exclaimed one. "There's a crowd of peasants blocking the road, shouting like you wouldn't believe!"

"We heard a man calling for help," added the other. "It must have been the King!"

"Well, don't just stand there, men," said the captain. "The King is in danger. We must go to his aid at once!" And before William Brewer could order them to desist, the soldiers were rushing off to save their sovereign, leaving Brewer alone with the grain. But he wasn't alone for long. He soon had ample company.

His company consisted of six men to be exact. And it was with an impending lurch of his stomach, that Brewer noted the longbows in their hands. The woman smiled as the leader of the group congratulated her for the fine work she had done. He placed an arm around her waist and gazed up at Brewer, armed with not only a sword but, what was worse in Brewer's eyes, an insolent grin as well.

"Good day, my lord," said Robin Hood. "We're sorry to have to delay your journey back to Newark, but I'm afraid you've taken something that doesn't belong to you."

"You filthy cutthroats! Do you dare oppose King John? What is all this about?"

"It's the grain King John plans to steal from the villages of Wickham, Aldbury and Leaford," answered Robin calmly. "We're here to get it back."

  


* * * * 

  
"That was good work from all of you," said Robin, praising the villagers of Wickham. It had been the villagers who had staged the mock riot, convincing the soldiers that King John was in danger. By the time the guards had stormed down the road, the rioting villagers were gone...and so was the grain. However, although the incident had proved to be much to William Brewer's chagrin, it turned out to be much to the villagers' and the outlaws' delight. They could certainly be seen celebrating the fact as they conducted their prize deep into Sherwood's depths.

Robin's companions had suggested that they hide it in the cave in Sherwood, which was known to both the outlaws and the villagers, but Robin felt the need to hide it somewhere safer. He knew what the fate of the original grain shipment had been. Gulnar's men had set flames to it while it had been tucked away in Hob's Cave. This time, they would hide it better and it would be guarded carefully until Gulnar and his followers had been beaten and the power of Fenris had been destroyed once and for all. To do that, some things would have to be done very differently.

Robin wanted to remember the mistakes he had made and make amends, to change some of the circumstances that had driven the Wheel to turn in the first place. Men might die if he failed, and the bonds of friendship and love broken. Robin looked at Marion, catching her glance for an instant. Yes, he thought. Some things would have to turn out very differently.

He had a chance to keep Marion here, to help her release that part of the past that caused her so much pain, though he did not want her to forget the love she held for Loxley. Robin wished to show Marion that she could still find happiness in the future, that, if she wished it, he would be right there beside her to share in it all - if she would only conquer her fears and let him.

He couldn't rush her or force her into marriage if she wasn't ready for it. If he truly loved her, he would have to be willing to let her go in order to keep her. If the love that existed between them was true, it was only time that kept them apart. Time, which had always seemed to pass so quickly, was faltering. It seemed to move too slowly for Marion to heal. Robin knew that nothing was forgotten, but the passage of time could still provide one with the strength to acknowledge pain and face whatever demons plagued the past.

He loved her. Whether it took days, months, or years for them to be together no longer mattered. He would wait. As difficult as it was for him, he would wait. He would wait for the day when Marion could come to him and return his love without the remnants of the past acting as her barricade, the day when she could return his love with the deepest parts of herself, return his love completely.

Robin cast his eyes to Marion again, but, instead of meeting his look, she began to walk away. Robin abandoned his reverie abruptly and followed her. Even though he had been engrossed in thought, he had seen her watching their friends from Wickham. He could tell that she was upset about something.

"Marion," said Robin, trying to catch her attention. "Marion?" He was led out of the clearing and found himself almost breathless by the time he caught up with her. "Marion!"

Marion stopped as Robin touched her arm, but would say nothing for some time. Then, when she did speak, Robin was confronted by serious imploring eyes.

"Do you think it will ever end, Robin?" asked Marion. "Do you think the villagers will ever have to stop fighting for their grain, fighting for what is rightfully theirs? Do you think there will ever be a day when the people are free and we have no need to defend them?"

"Will there ever be a day when there is no spring. Or lovers? What about lovers?" Robin was trying to be light-hearted, but he could see that it wasn't having the desired effect.

"What about it, Robin?" said Marion, and Robin saw that she was very much in earnest. He frowned pensively, trying to provide her with a good answer. "What about freedom for the people?" she continued. "Will there always be injustice and tyranny? Can we ever end that?"

Robin sighed. "I don't know, but I believe that we each forge our own path. What is here now belongs to us: the trees, the forest, the land...It's ours, Marion. What I'm trying to say is that we have the power to end all of this one day. We control both the beginning and end of things. This place, this time, it belongs to us. Nothing that anyone ever says or does can change that. Can you understand that, Marion?"

Marion looked down and appeared to study the ground.

Had he said something wrong? Something she had found hurtful? Had he said too much...?

Marion's hand found its way into his and she kissed him. Robin met Marion's eyes in surprise.

Marion smiled and, with a graceful movement, tapped her foot on the ground. "Is this our path then?" she asked, and Robin saw that their feet were indeed resting on a worn patch of the forest floor that seemed to form the beginning of a path.

"Yes, Marion, I believe it is." Robin placed his arm around Marion and they looked at what lay before them.

The path they took might fork and split one day, and they might have to part, but today the path was smooth and appeared to stretch for miles and miles ahead of them.

  


* * * * 

  
"De Rainault!" yelled a voice. "De Rainault!"

The Sheriff lifted his head nonchalantly, though he was rather peeved at the disturbance. Gisburne glanced up as well, his eyes leaving the figures he had been working on. He noticed, with dread, that it was William Brewer. He nervously pushed his work aside as Brewer walked up to the Sheriff's chair and fixed him with a scalding glare.

"I'm taking your head to the King, de Rainault!" announced Brewer.

_No, not again_, pleaded Gisburne silently to himself. He was almost on his feet to defend his lord when he remembered that this action on his part had almost resulted in his downfall the last time.

The knight fought the urge to protest and carefully ensured that he made no sound that even resembled speech. For once, Gisburne was unwilling to draw any attention to himself. Instead, he waited mutely for the Sheriff to make his first move apparent.

"My head?" asked de Rainault, who didn't sound alarmed. On the contrary, Gisburne could see that it was Brewer who was afraid.

"The grain shipment has been stolen by Robin Hood!" shouted Brewer.

"Stolen?" said the Sheriff.

"Yes!" hissed Brewer. "And, as it happened in the shire you are _supposed_ to be administrating, you will be held accountable."

"I will be held accountable?"

"You should have dealt with Robin Hood and those cutthroats years ago. Instead, you have allowed them to seize control of this entire county!"

"Come, my lord," said the Sheriff, laughing lightly, "I think you are exaggerating a little."

"Exaggerating? Exaggerating when those wolfsheads attacked us on an open road!"

"You mean, he didn't attack the wagon while you travelled through Sherwood?"

"Of course not! Do you think I'm such a fool as to travel through there? How can anyone travel through Sherwood after what you've allowed it to become?"

The Sheriff stared at Brewer in mock confusion. "I apologize, my lord, but I don't quite understand. Are you telling me that Robin Hood was able to capture a wagon guarded by His Majesty's own men on open ground?"

Brewer didn't answer for a moment. He seemed only capable of fuming.  
"We were tricked," he said at last. "It was a ruse. A woman came and told us that the King had been captured by a crowd of unruly peasants!" _Marion_, thought Gisburne, who suddenly found favour in her name.

"A woman told you this?" asked the Sheriff, who seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"Yes," muttered Brewer, almost inaudibly.

"Pardon me, my lord?"

"Yes!" replied Brewer.

The Sheriff's eyebrows rose. "And you believed her?"

"I sent two men to verify her story. They returned, stating that it was true. The captain ordered his men to go there at once."

"Leaving the grain unattended?"

"They-they left to attend to His Majesty."

"Who wasn't actually in danger."

"Well--"

"And you let them?" said Gisburne, who found he could no longer hold speech back. The Sheriff eyed his steward in a seemingly appreciative manner before they both glared at Brewer in contempt.

"Look here, I'm not to blame for this!" shouted Brewer, who found he had to force himself to meet the accusing set of eyes.

"The grain was stolen while under your charge, my lord, and yet you still insist on blaming us?" cried the Sheriff, feigning astonishment.

"Of course I'm blaming you! The grain was your responsibility, de Rainault!"

"Yes, it _was_, but then it became _your_ responsibility. Once the grain had been placed into your care, it was completely out of my hands."

"What?" shrieked Brewer.

"If I had thought that a convoy of the King's men would not be enough, I would have gladly provided you with a further escort made up of my own men..."

"Not that he could have commanded them any better," Gisburne dared to mutter.

"What did you say?" demanded Brewer.

"Gisburne was just marvelling at your audacity, Brewer," answered the Sheriff.

"My audacity?" snarled Brewer, enraged.

"You claim that this is our fault and, yet, it is your competency, or, rather, lack thereof, which is to blame," countered the Sheriff smoothly. "King John provides you with perfectly good men, and you are unable to command them properly. In fact, you seemed quite prepared to endanger their lives on account of the lies told to you by one woman!"

"How dare you?" roared Brewer.

"How dare I?" asked the Sheriff. "What you have done is committed treachery through the greatest degree of ineptitude I have ever had the misfortune to witness!" he shouted. And, at this point, Gisburne made sure to remain doubly silent. "You have made a mockery of the King's justice," continued the Sheriff. "If I were you, Brewer, I would throw myself on the King's mercy and beg for his forgiveness. He can be generous when the mood suits him. He might spare your head, though I wish to God he would remove your tongue!"

Gisburne stared at the Sheriff in amazement, then fought the impulse to laugh as Brewer turned ghastly pale. Guy couldn't tell if Brewer's reaction stemmed more from fear or anger. Whatever emotion it was, it prevented Brewer from uttering any kind of coherent speech for some time. When Brewer did manage to speak again, all three of them were aware of whom the victor was in this battle.

"I...I shall report this incident to the King!" said Brewer, managing to grind out these last words.

The Sheriff smiled, but it wasn't with kindness. "As I hope you shall," he responded sternly, "though I pray you will not waste His Majesty's precious time with this farce of yours as you have wasted mine. Good day, my lord."

Brewer shot both men one final attempt at a threatening scowl before he fled from the hall.

Once Brewer was gone, the Sheriff allowed himself a quiet chuckle.

"What if he does report this incident to the King, my lord?" asked Gisburne, who found he was too cautious to accept victory that easily.

"What if he does? It won't be my head in jeopardy, will it? The man's a fool. I bet that, even if he tried, he couldn't lie well enough to save his neck! Why, even you could make up a better story about all of this than he could, couldn't you, Gisburne?"

_I can now_, thought Guy, looking back at everything he had just gone through. Then, he realized with a start that that wolfshead had actually helped him. It was now Brewer's head that was in danger, not his own. Perhaps a little collaboration with the enemy wasn't so terrible after all...

"I wonder what other surprises we will encounter today," mused the Sheriff aloud, as if interpreting Gisburne's thoughts. "You don't have any surprises for me, do you, Gisburne?" he asked, looking his steward straight in the eyes.

"No, my lord. I don't believe so..." But he did. The herald soon stood before them, announcing their guest.

"Lady Margaret of Gisburne," said the herald.

"What?" gasped Gisburne. No, it couldn't be! His mother was dead. She had died at Croxden Abbey. They had told him she was dead!

The Sheriff saw the knight go pale. He watched Gisburne's face as a mixture of emotions churned within it.

Lady Margaret entered the hall, and Gisburne wasn't sure if he should be relieved or even more startled. The one thing he seemed sure about was his confusion. He was very, very confused.

Lady Margaret strode confidently towards Gisburne. When she reached him, her arms went around him and she kissed him on both cheeks.

"Greetings, brother," she said.

"Brother?" exclaimed the Sheriff, goggling at the two of them.

"Yes," replied Margaret, breaking away from Gisburne. "I'm his sister."  
The Sheriff took in the fair flowing hair of the woman in front of him, judging the rather patched dress she wore critically.

"Margaret of Gisburne," added Margaret, making her own introduction. "You must be the Sheriff of Nottingham." She curtsied and took the Sheriff's hand, shaking it before the Sheriff could stop her.

Gisburne found he couldn't speak. He could only stare at Margaret increduously.

Why was this happening? _How_ did she get here? _What_ was she doing here...?

"I find it strange that Gisburne has never spoken about you," said the Sheriff, addressing Margaret directly.

"You mean Guy has never mentioned me?" asked Margaret, sounding rather hurt.

The Sheriff's sharp glance shot back to Gisburne. "No, he didn't."

"Didn't I?" said Gisburne feebly. He saw Margaret smile, and the Sheriff look even more infuriated. But Gisburne knew that he was much angrier than the Sheriff and fuming silently to himself didn't seem quite good enough for the occasion.

_I'm going to kill that wolfshead for this_, he thought, and took what little comfort he could in plotting his revenge.

  



End file.
